Mallian Arrow
by Norrsken
Summary: Alexander receives a serious arrow wound at the city of the Mallians. Hephaestion has to maintain order in Camp while worrying for his Golden One.
1. Setting Out For Revenge

Hello Coral and all,

Here, at long last, comes my contribution to your Mallian Arrow fic challenge. I'm a very slow writer and I apologize for this long delay.

As you will see, I have let Bucephalus stay alive in this slightly AR tale. The General Cleitus is also alive in this tale. I feel that the Golden One and his True Steadfast Friend cannot do without them. This is a tale filled with angst and mayhem, and our Dear Ones will need all the help that they can get, both from human and animal friends.

All the best wishes and hopefully good reading,

/ NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Mallian Arrow. ( 1 / 5 )  
Author: NorthernLight  
Email address:  
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure story. AR  
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion  
Date: June 2008  
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, on and off list  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only. This is for my great and long term interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their times and and great adventures.  
Beta: Denise. Many thanks for interesting suggestions and discussions. You sure make my stories a far better read.  
Summary: Due to reckless actions, Alexander receives a serious arrow wound at the city of the Mallians. I have taken the liberty to use the AR concept to explain his ruthless war against the Mallians.  
Warnings: Angst. War and violence. Serious injury to major character.  
Botanical note: My thanks to D V Cowen and his excellent book on Flowering Trees & Shrubs in India.

Dedication: To Coral, in answer to your Mallian Arrow fic challenge. I'm a very slow writer, but this story has been ready in my head for a very long time. My apologies for not finishing it earlier.

**Mallian Arrow, Part I**

****

The Macedonian Camp At the Confluence Of The Rivers Hydaspes And Acesines, 326 BC

Vigil

The Indian air was stifling hot as the sun was slowly sinking down the fiery western horizon. Flocks of clouds gathered, burning in bright red, orange and crimson colors.

Not even the coming dusk could bring some well needed coolness to the finely adorned, large tent in the middle of the Macedonian camp. Two horses, one coal black and one fiery auburn were standing outside the tent, too worried to munch on the barley in their nosebags. Two wolf like dogs were guarding, together with two black panthers who held vigilant watch looking at all passers by with suspicion gleaming in their fiery yellow eyes. The two stern dark haired warriors who were leaning on their sharpened gleaming spears often cast worried glances into the tent. They looked worn out, as if they could have fallen asleep standing on their feet. Still, they were vigilant.

Their duty was too important to allow them to give in to weariness. Their Dear Lords needed them and they would always be loyal and ready to guard and serve them.

Birds of prey gathered in the crown of an enormous tree nearby, ominously screeching, hungering after hapless victims. One especially large vulture ventured to the opening of the tent. One of the panthers immediately chased it off. The black shadow was so swift in her assault that she managed to catch one of the vulture's tail feathers in her mouth.

A severely wounded man was carefully tended to inside the large tent. He lay in a common army cot bed, but he was wrapped into the finest linen sheets and a warming turquoise blue blanket was placed at his feet, ready to shield him from the nighttime cold. He was pale and wan from severe blood loss and high fever. Still one could see the great beauty in his haggard features. His auburn hair lacked its usual shine and gloss, lying listlessly spread over the silken azure blue pillow. He had been well built, but now his muscular frame was wasting away from fever and illness.

A Golden Warrior was holding constant vigil at his bedside, washing his feverish brow with cooling cloths and giving him fresh water and nourishing broths to drink. Alexander was like a shining beacon, glimmering and golden in the shadows of the tent. He was the one who kept the wounded man alive. Thanks to his strength and determination Hephaestion still held on to life. His right leg and thigh was on fire and several ribs on his right side had been cracked so he was in great pain and distress. He was feeling very week and listless, he was not even able to speak. Even his breath came with great pain and difficulty. He wanted to say something to his Golden One, to thank him for his constant care and vigil. Instead he was drifting away into a feverish slumber, filled with nightmares from past events, events that had put him in this present distress.

_/ The Mallians and Oxydracians made a fierce assault. Their enormous war elephants scared the brave Macedonian war stallions, making them shy away, breaking Alexander's invincible cavalry up into scattered groups of frightened men and horses. One giant, dark skinned warrior towered in the front, commanding the Mallian host with infallible bravery. They bravely followed him, War Elephants, infantry and all, waving their spears, sharpened swords and knifes with fierce brutality._

__

Alexander saw the threatening defeat with great dismay.

He had to do something - immediately !

He leaned over Bucephalus powerful frame, whispering into one of the the black stallion's ears that was stroked backwards from sheer angst.

You and me, my brave Bucephalus, you and me together in one last act of bravery. Let us show them! We are invincible - you and me !

Hephaestion saw his Golden One through the red dust of the battle ground. He was so brave and beautiful, the two white ostrich plumes on his helmet waved in the hot Indian breeze, his armour shone in the scorching Indian sun as he let his fierce black stallion rear up against the giant War Elephant.

Suddenly an archer appeared behind the giant, dark skinned warrior on the war elephant. He notched an arrow to his large double curved bow and took true and steady aim at Alexander.

Alexander! Beware of the archer!

Too late! The arrow was already airborne on its deadly flight towards its goal. Hephaestion spurred Castor towards Bucephalus. He managed to throw the giant stallion off balance and get Alexander out of target, in the nick of time.

Then there was a sharp, stinging pain in his right thigh. He looked down and saw the thick, cruel arrow protruding from his own sun tanned flesh.

He had taken the cruel arrow that was intended for his Golden One !

Blood was already flowing freely from the wound. Waves of dizziness assaulted him and he wobbled to and fro, futilely trying to hold on to Castor. After what felt like an eternity of nauseous efforts to stay on his war stallion he fell to the ground, and a cloud of red dust swirled around him. The impact was very hard, and he felt an audible crack on the right side of his ribcage. All air was knocked out of his labouring lungs and the pain was unbearable. He fought desperately to remain conscious as he saw Alexander throwing his spear with true aim. The Indian warrior fell from his richly adorned standing frame, landing on the ground with a great thud. The scorched earth sent up a cloud of red dust, hiding him from all sight. When the Mallians and Oxydracians saw that their brave leader was fallen they all turned and ran away in an unison flight, screaming from fear and dismay. Alexander spurred Bucephalus once more, chasing the war elephant away from the battle ground.

A la la lai ! A la la lai! A la la lai!

The fierce Macedonian war cry rang in his ears as Hephaestion lay on the ground. He choked on the red dust, feeling consciousness leave him as he drifted into a red haze of pain and weakness.

His Golden One was safe and victorious! Alexander was safe! That was all that mattered.

Hephaestion felt his surroundings dimming and darkening around him, until all the world turned dark as night and red as blood. A wave of unbearable pain wracked his body, and then he knew no more... /

**Worrying  
**  
Alexander sat at the bedside of his Dear One. Hephaestion was tossing and turning in a very high fever. The King and doctor Philip had done all they could to help him, to make the fever go away and heal the ugly arrow wound in his right thigh. All their remedies had been to no avail.

A warm and friendly hand was put on his aching and worried shoulder.

Alexander. You must let him be. Go away and have some rest. You have been constantly at his side for well over a week now. I will stay with him until you return. 

Doctor Philip stood behind him, trying to admonish the worried King.

No. I cannot leave him. Not when he is like this. He did it to save ME, and not only did he save me from my own recklessness, he saved the whole day with his bravery. 

They checked on their dear patient together. The wound was severe, an angry gash on the middle of his right thigh. It was deep and festering, reaching all the way down to the bone. Perhaps it was healing, but in a very slow and agonizing manner. They removed the dressings that were drenched in pus and dried blood, and then they thoroughly rinsed and cleaned up the wound with wine and hot water before they applied another compress with soothing and healing herbs and wrapped the thigh in another clean dressing. Then they turned to the badly bruised ribcage, changing the dressings and anointing the bruised skin and cracked ribs with a paste of comfrey and arnica. Their patient tossed and turned in desperation as he moaned and screamed out loud from pain and distress. Alexander held on to his friend, trying in vain to calm him down.

Rest easy, Phai, rest easy. We will be ready soon now. We must do this to help you feel better. 

The wounded man calmed down as they finished their ministrations. Doctor Philip managed to give him a pain relieving concoction which he swallowed with great difficulty. Afterwards he fell into a deep slumber, filled with pain and anguish. Alexander and the good doctor remained at his bedside.

Philip, will he ever get better?,  the King worriedly asked. The wound doesn't look good, it has not changed or healed at all since yesterday. The fever hasn't broken yet, and he shows no signs of awakening. 

No, Alexander. I am worried for him, too. IF his leg heals properly I am not sure that he will ever be able to walk again - and probably his fighting days are over. 

The good doctor shuddered, afraid for the King's reactions to his bold outspokenness. Alexander knew that Philip was telling the plain and simple truth, and he didn't even call out. He just leaned over his Dear One, shivering in silent grief.

Doctor Philip remained at their side, thinking to himself.

_/ They are so very close, so very close. I fear for them both. What will happen if Hephaestion doesn't recover at all... /  
_

**Animal Friends**

Alexander sat vigilantly watching at Hephaestion's bedside. The condition of his friend was the same, no better, but no worse either. The air was stifling hot around them. Not even the big ostrich fan constantly waved by the ever present Bagoas could bring them some well needed coolness and fresh air.

Bucephalus and Castor stood vigilantly watching outside the tent. Alexander went to them and talked to them for some time, telling them what news there was about their Dear One. Both war stallions had been wounded in the battle, and the horse doctor feared for some time that they might go permanently lame. The dressings and poultices Alexander and doctor Philip had applied to their wounded legs had been most helpful, though. Alexander wished that the remedies he and doctor Philip had used could have been equally helpful in the healing of Hephaestion's leg.

The wolf like dogs and the ferocious panthers followed him inside the tent. They had been well fed, but the game keeper had told the King that their usually hearty appetite had been lacking of late.

It's uncanny, my King. It is as if they actually know how things are with the General Hephaestion. 

No, not at all, my good Prytanias. Of course they know. They are so very close to us, especially the panthers. Hephaestion appreciated it a lot when Porus gave them to us as a present. He says that they remind him of the kittens he had as a young boy. 

The wolf like dogs came up to Hephaestion, eagerly wagging their tails, futilely trying to arouse him. Alexander determinedly held them back.

NO, Phobos and Deimos, he sternly reproached them. You may not disturb Hephaestion for now. You must let him have his sleep and rest. He is very ill, I fear. 

The dogs listened to him and settled down at the side of the bed. The panthers now approached the King and butted their coal black heads on his knees as they worriedly looked at Hephaestion.

Don't you worry like that, my dear Nychta and Mavra, he told the giant black cats as he reassuringly rubbed them behind their coal black ears. Your Dear Master will get better soon, yes, he MUST get better real soon...

The panthers settled down at the foot of Hephaestion's bed. Soon they were purring in unison, making Alexander drift into daydreaming. He shivered and shuddered as past misfortunes came alive in his mind.

**Remorse**

_/ Alexander chased the Mallians and Oxydracians before him. He and Bucephalus were an irresistible war machine, and the enemies ran away in sheer fright and panic before the fierce Golden Warrior and his coal black stallion. The brave Macedonians followed him, Companions, cavalry, phalanx and all. Soon the battle was over. The Enemy had fled, and hundreds of Mallians and Oxydracians lay dead on the field, covered by the dry, red dust that was ever present._

__

Another great Victory. Alexander looked to his side, to share it with his True Steadfast Friend.

Hephaestion was not at at his side !

He turned to look for his Dear One. Now Stefanos and Alexios came riding towards him.

My King, the General Hephaestion has been severely wounded. Doctor Philip is with him now. He is asking for you...

Alexander instantly turned Bucephalus and rode towards the Macedonian camp. Now he noticed that the big black stallion was limping on his right foreleg. He gently patted him on his muscular neck.

Steady, steady, my friend. Just carry me to Hephaestion's side, then you may rest and I will see to it that you get the very best of care. 

Bucephalus faithfully carried the King to the Royal tent. His friend Castor stood outside, desperately trying to enter. The groom had great difficulties to hold the auburn colored stallion back.

No, NO! You may not enter into the King's tent! , he adamantly called out. How strange. This old stallion has always been so kind and docile. One might think that he actually wants to help his Master. 

Of course he does, Haster, but I fear that he cannot. You must let ME in, instead. I hope that I can be of some help. 

Bucephalus, now you must be good and keep Castor company. I will come and see to you both later on, when I know that all is well with my Hephaestion. 

Alexander leaped inside the tent, to find doctor Philip at Hephaestion's side, working in desperation. The patient's right thigh was wrapped in bloody bandages, and his whole ribcage was badly bruised, especially on the right side of his body. He was deathly pale and wan, and he didn't seem to be breathing at all. The good doctor looked up to Alexander.

My King, I have done all I can, but it is of no avail. I do not think that I can save him. He is still bleeding, his ribs are badly cracked, and he is in such pain that he is barely able to breathe...

No, NO! There MUST be something to do. 

Alexander quickly washed away the blood, dust and grime from his hands and arms. Then he desperately grasped for the jar with the Miracle Ointment. He took some in his hands and applied it directly on the open and still profusely bleeding wound. There was an aromatic and revitalizing smell filling the whole tent. It made Alexander and doctor Philip actually stagger, and the fumes dimmed their vision. When the air had cleared up they took a close look at their Dear Patient.

The bleeding has stopped, and the wound seemed to be closing up a bit. Alexander applied some more Ointment on his hands and put them on each side of Hephaestion's ribcage. The wounded man was not breathing at all by then, but suddenly he took some agonizing gasps, taking in the stifling hot Indian air. A faint colour returned on his pale cheeks as he opened his beautiful blue eyes.

Alexander. You are safe, at long last...

Then his head fell to the side as he succumbed into a merciful unconsciousness. Doctor Philip felt for the pulse on his neck. It was flickering and weak, but beating stronger all the time. The good doctor gave Alexander a reassuring look.

My King, your friend will survive, thanks to your ministrations. Now let's see to him properly. 

Both men were now crying from sheer relief, before they applied clean dressings and healing poultices on Hephaestion's leg wound and chest. Then they put him to rest, propping him up with soft but supportive cushions to allow him to breathe easier. Alexander put some soft pillows under his wounded leg, careful not to hurt his friend.

Alexander sat himself down for a constant vigil at his friend's bedside. He was silently crying and constantly reproaching himself.

Hephaestion ! If I only had looked back for you, instead of leading the charge against the Enemy. Then I would have been able to save you from all this pain and misery...

Doctor Philip did his very best to calm him down.

My King, You cannot reproach yourself for all this. You HAD to lead the charge, no one else could have won the victory. And we know that Hephaestion could do nothing else but protect you with his own life and body...

Alexander well knew all this, but still his mind was filled with remorse and sorrow. His recklessness had almost lost him his very Dearest Friend.

He feared greatly for having to face a future without Hephaestion. /

**Awakening**

Hephaestion was rising through a vault of unbearable stifling heat. He was surrounded by a wet and suffocating darkness. His whole body was wracked with pain and weakness, and he felt a red hot burning ache in his right thigh. Each breath came with great difficulty and he felt as if he had been trampled by a whole herd of war elephants.

Suddenly waves of coolness bathed him and he started shivering. He managed to open his eyes and see through the shadows. There was a mane of golden hair before him, sending off a most enticing scent of chamomile, and a wonderful fragrance not found anywhere else.

Alexander was with him, resting in an exhausted posture on his chest. He gave his Golden One a fond look, as he managed to lift his weak and trembling hand to strike the golden hair and pale cheek before him. A strong hand came up, as if to whisk away some annoying insect. When realizing the nature of the disturbance, instead it grasped Hephaestion's hand, holding on to it in a strong, everlasting grip. Alexander lifted his head and looked straight into Hephaestion's bright blue eyes. When he saw that they were clear and lucid, with no signs of fever he gave in to a fit of endless crying. His whole body trembled from relief and joy.

Hephaestion tried to speak. At first it was impossible, but then he managed to utter a few words of comfort.

Don't you worry anymore, Alexander. You cannot manage without me, so I simply had to come back...

His head fell towards the right, as he once more drifted into sleep. This time his slumber was deep and salutary. without pain and worry. His Golden one slept at his side, closely guarding his Dear One against pain and misfortune. _  
_

**Revenge**

Hephaestion sat resting in a comfortable chair, his wounded leg propped up on cushions on a stool before him. Nychta and Mavra, his tame panthers, were trying to comfort him as they sat purring at his side, gently butting at his leg. He thankfully rubbed their coal black heads, whispering words of comfort and reassurance to them. They reminded him of the kittens from his childhood, but their far grander size and stature was a sign of his rise to the greatest power and responsibility - and the constant risk of being detracted or even killed by cruel enemies.

A crutch standing close nearby reminded him of the severity of his injury. He had made a very slow recovery. His thigh wound was healing, but so slowly that he sometimes mistrusted. He still had a slight fever every day, and he was often in pain and distress. It upset even his calm and orderly temper when he was not able to move around as swift and alert as always. At first he had to stay in bed all the time, not being able to work at all. As soon as he was able to sit up he had told his clerks to bring the heaps of scrolls and dispatches that had been amassing. Ptolemy had followed, happy to see him mending. The other general had served as a deputy during his untimely illness. He was intelligent and held great knowledge of army work, but he didn't possess Hephaestion's very special talents with logistics, order and paper work.

Alexander was pacing to and fro, like an angry lion haunting some hapless prey. No, he was more like a fierce tiger, preparing to strike at a formidable foe. His golden mane was streaked with dust and sweat, and he radiated sheer force and power, enough of it to scare the bravest of foes away. Hephaestion could never get enough of watching his Beautiful Golden One - but now he was truly worried for his friend. Alexander was always badly upset when his close friends and Companions were ill or wounded. Now it was even worse.

The King had received bad news recently. The Mallians and Oxydracians had managed to gather another numerous host and launch another uprising. The recent, overwhelming Macedonian victory had been all in vain. Now the enemy once more threatened them, trying to cut them off from their march back to Babylon.

After an eternity of pacing and considering alternatives Alexander came to a decision.

Revenge ! I will have my revenge on these offensive people. They almost took YOU from me - and I cannot let them stand in our way ! I will take the main part of our army and annihilate them all! There is a scorching dry desert separating us from them. They think that we will take the longer march route around it - but I will march straight through the desert and fall upon them in a surprise assault!

Hephaestion shuddered inwardly at the thought of forcing the Macedonians to march through another scorching hot desert. He hated deserts. They were so hot, dry and merciless, utterly devoid of beauty, life and the means of supporting life. He remembered the dangerous march to Siwah, where only Alexander's luck and his uncanny ways with animals had saved them all from suffering a most dreadful death in the merciless dry red hot sands before the Oracle of Ammon.

He knew that there was no way to stop Alexander when he had his mind set upon something. It was only to cooperate and make the best of things.

Yes, Alexander, I see. I will give you my calculations on how many water skins and how much food you will have to bring immediately,  Hephaestion calmly stated, as he gave his injured leg a sad and disappointed look. I will be waiting here for you. This time I cannot ride at your side. 

Alexander came to him and put his hands on his shoulders. They spread a healing warmth into his shoulders, down his aching ribcage and all the way down to his severe leg wound, making the pains and aches go away for the time being.

I will sorely miss you - but you will be of invaluable help in organizing the supplies to our desert march,  Alexander thankfully stated. I am sorry to have to leave you behind. You will be in command, holding our camp here together with Craterus, Ptolemy and Cleitus. I rely on you to cooperate and guard our supply lines. 

Hephaestion felt ripples of chills down his spine, despite the Indian heat and his remaining fever.

Yes, I come along well enough with Ptolemy and Cleitus, he reflected. Craterus is quite another matter. He never liked me. I am glad that he is completely loyal to you, though. 

Alexander nodded in silent assent. He needed all his Companions and Generals - but the long time enmity between the giant black maned Craterus and his True Steadfast Friend was a well known trouble.

The King called for a hearty evening meal, with strong Indian rice wine to go with it. They ate with a good appetite, and Hephaestion felt the strong liquor soothe the ever present pain in his leg.

After the meal they went outside the tent for some time. The hot Indian sun was setting in the West, and the sky was glowing in fiery orange, red and crimson colours. The ever present vultures gathered once more, sitting down to rest in the big Rusty Shield Bearer trees near the Camp. Hephaestion shuddered as he saw these birds, living on the misfortunes of others . Ripples of chilling foreboding went up and down his spine. Then Alexander put his arm around his shoulders, making him feel warm, safe and secure once more.

Don't you worry, my Dear One. I will come back to you, I always have. These scavengers will have to feed on something else then my brave Macedonians,  he reassuringly told his friend. Look at the Western Horizon. Soon we will be back in Babylon, and there we will have news from our homes far away in Macedon. 

Alexander supported his friend as they wandered back into the King's tent. They lay down to rest. Alexander immediately succumbed to a deep and dreamless sleep. Hephaestion was not so lucky. His wounded leg ached so badly that he couldn't relax and let Morpheus come to him. Then his mind filled with forebodings and bad omens. Alexander was going away from him, riding through a hot and hostile desert to meet a numerous Enemy host, armed to their teeth and brimming with hatred towards the Macedonians.

This time he would not be there at Alexander's side, constantly watching over him and keeping him out of harms way.

Hephaestion lay awake for a very long time, worriedly watching his Golden One. A sullenly bleak and yellow moon soared outside the Royal tent, bathing it in its faint shimmer. Black, claw like clouds blew over the moon, followed by screeching bats hunting for hapless prey.

Hephaestion turned away from the dismal sight and hid his face in Alexander's fragrant golden hair. His friend moved in his sleep and put his arm around him. Once more he felt warm, safe and secure. Now he was able to let Morpheus claim him, at long last.

**Farewells  
**

In three days time the Macedonian army was ready for their surprise desert march. Alexander was standing close to Bucephalus, looking so brave and beautiful when the sun made his well polished armor shine and send out flashes of golden light. The white ostrich plumes waved on his helmet, and Hephaestion sighed when he knew that this time he would not follow these signs of Victory in battle.

Alexander embraced his dear friend, holding on to him for a very long time

You will be in command here at our Base Camp, holding the supply lines for us,  Alexander reassuringly told his friend. It is an important assignment - but I sure will miss you out there. Do not exert yourself too much. I want you strong and able at my side when I return. 

He gave Hephaestion one more warm and reassuring hug before mounting Bucephalus.

The Macedonian Army was on its way, riding bravely into the glowing orange morning sun. The Desert of Sandar awaited them with its red sands and scorching hot dangers.

Hephaestion stood leaning onto his crutch, looking after them until they disappeared far away in the desert. The glaring sun and heat made his eyes blur, and a single crystal tear fell down his cheek. Then he felt a strong, cold hand settling down on his shoulder.

Well, the King's favourite. So now you are in command over me once more - and this time even more unworthy. Now you cannot even walk properly ! They say that you will have that limp 'til your dying days, and that your fighting days are all over. Still Alexander prefers you over ME ! I have never been able to understand why !

Craterus ! Mean and envious as always! Hephaestion was in worse pain and worry than usual, and sorely missing his Golden One. These feelings unsettled his calm and diplomatic mind. A cloud of red rage filled him up, and he lifted the supportive crutch. With a mighty swath he managed to strike the giant General off his feet.

You are right, I cannot walk so good for the time being - but I am still able to defend myself well enough against all your slander and malice !

Craterus sat in the red dust, for once at a loss for words.

Hephaestion once more leaned on his supportive crutch as he slowly limped into the Royal Tent. He was feeling more miserable for every minute. He realized that he had some hard times to endure before Alexander would be back from his dangerous campaign.

He didn't know that there was far worse to come...

**TBC**


	2. Arrow Of Vengeance, Waiting In Angst

Hello Coral and all,

Here comes part two. Alexander is off on his Mallian Campaign, eager for revenge and to clear the way for a safe passage back to Babylon . Hephaestion is left behind, because of his serious leg wound. He misses his Golden One, but soon there is worse to come...

All the best wishes ans hopefully good reading,

/ NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Mallian Arrow. ( 2 / 5 )  
Author: NorthernLight  
Email address:  
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure story. AR  
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion  
Date: June 2008  
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, on and off list  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only. This is for my great and long term interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their times and and great adventures.  
Beta: Denise. Many thanks for interesting suggestions and discussions. You sure make my stories a far better read.  
Summary: Due to reckless actions, Alexander receives a serious arrow wound at the city. of the Mallians I have taken the liberty to use the AR concept to explain his ruthless war against the Mallians.  
Warnings: Angst. War and violence. Serious injury to major characters.  
Botanical note: My thanks to D V Cowen and his excellent book on Flowering Trees & Shrubs in India.

Dedication: To Coral, in answer to your Mallian Arrow fic challenge. I'm a very slow writer, but this story has been ready in my head for a very long time. My apologies for not finishing it earlier.

Mallian Arrow, Part II

The Macedonian Camp At the Confluence Of The Rivers Hydaspes And Acesines, 326 BC

Relapse

Hephaestion was in deep physical and emotional pain as he limped back into the Royal Tent. His injured leg and cracked ribs hurt like hell, they throbbed in an agonizing manner for every step he dragged himself forward, and each breath was a torment.

The emotional pain was even worse. He missed Alexander sorely already - and he had only just seen him riding off into the merciless Desert of Sandar. Craterus' vicious slander made him feel even worse. His brave actions against his most malicious detractor didn't heighten his spirits. It was good, though, to see the offending General sitting there in the hot red dust, for once at a loss for slanderous words.

Suddenly Hephaestion felt dizzy and severely unwell. He staggered and almost fell to the ground.

General Hephaestion. You are bleeding!

Hieron and Pataikos, his young pages, called out to him in great worry and alarm. He looked down at his thigh and saw the blood flowing freely down to the ground, mixing with the red dust and leaving an ominous red trail after him.

Oh no. Not THAT also. Help me to bed and call doctor Philip immediately!

The young pages gave him some kind and well needed support. They almost had to drag him into the tent, and they staggered under his weight. They were very young since they had recently come from Macedon to learn the art of war. Their eyes were wide from shock and their faces white under their tan. Hephaestion sorely missed his faithful guards Stefanos and Alexios. He had sent them to guard and protect Alexander, since he felt that the King needed these strong and able men better when out on his dangerous campaign.

Now he was supported by strong hands from behind, and he heard friendly voices.

Easy, Hephaestion, easy. Just lean on us. We will help you to your bed. Pataikos, go and fetch doctor Philip here immediately, before you pass out !

Cleitus and Ptolemy were at his side, always his strong and reliable allies at the conspiratory Macedonian Court. He leant heavily on them as they helped him to his bed in the Royal Tent. Pataikos ran for the doctor with great hurry. Hieron and the Generals and saw to it that Hephaestion rested as comfortably as possible. All three stayed at his side, and Cleitus made a crude tourniquet from a wrung towel, wrapping it firmly around his badly bleeding leg. His young black haired page sat at his side, holding his hand to offer comfort. His shimmering brown eyes were wide with worrying.

How are you, my General? You look so pale, and you are all covered with cold sweat.

Not well, my young one. Not well at all...

Hephaestion drifted away into a warm, wet darkness filled with red hot pain and agony. He could feel the doctor's determined ministrations as his wound was ripped open and washed thoroughly clean to stop the infection, the sizzling pain from the burning iron to cease the bleeding, and finally the soothing ointments and the clean bandages. He was quite unable to look up and speak, but he could swallow the bitter draught that he was given, and he felt it taking the pain away and making him sink into a merciful unconsciousness.

Slander At The Sick Bed

Hephaestion's relapse was a bad one. He remained unconscious for several days, suffering from a very high fever. Doctor Philip and his young pages Hieron and Pataikos were constantly at his side, giving him the very best care and sustenance. It was a most difficult task, since the patient was almost unable to hold any food or drink at all. They were very worried for their Dear Master. The good doctor said what was in the thoughts of all.

It is as if he cannot exist without Alexander. They are so very close. I am sure that the General Hephaestion will recover as soon as there is good news from the King's campaign. 

Ptolemy and Cleitus often came to visit their ailing comrade. They spoke words of kindness and comfort and offered what help they were able to give.

One day there was another visitor, not very kind at all.

The General Craterus stamped heavily inside the Royal Tent. The good doctor was just changing the dressings with the help of Hieron and Pataikos. Ptolemy and Cleitus sat holding and comforting the patient, who was in great pain, even in his unconscious state. Hephaestion's severe wound lay bare for Craterus' inquisitive eyes. His whole thigh was swollen and the skin had taken on an ominous blue red tinge. The wound was still open down to the bone and filled with pus and dried blood clots. It had healed a bit from the edges, but they, too, were red and swollen.

How is the General Hephaestion?,  Craterus asked, his voice dripping with malice. Has there been any improvement at all?

No, not yet, my General, but you can be reassured that we do our very best to help him. 

Craterus looked at the hapless patient and his sorely injured leg. His eyes were filled with glee and malice as he made a sound of sheer revulsion.

That sure looks very bad, indeed, he viciously stated. What a pity. IF he survives, he will forever have lost the beauty of those famous thighs. Perhaps the King will lose his abnormal interest in him at long last...

Hephaestion moaned and opened his eyes. He was unable to speak, but the look in his beautiful blue eyes told them all what he felt. Doctor Philip adamantly defended his patient.

Now, Craterus, THAT was really a vicious thing to say. Leave here immediately! You upset my patient with your malicious slander. He heard you, and beware when he is all well again! 

The Generals Cleitus and Ptolemy rose and forcibly threw the slanderous detractor out from the Royal Tent. When they returned they spoke words of comfort to Hephaestion.

Don't you mind his lewd words. He has always envied you everything. This horrible heat here around must have addled his brains and made him even worse,  Cleitus said.

Try to forget all this, my friend. All will be well when Alexander return, Ptolemy reassuringly told his friend, as he gently stroke his fevered brow.

Doctor Philip finished the dressings, and applied ointments and clean bandages. Afterwards, he administered a calming and pain relieving concoction to his patient. It dulled the pain and anxiety, but Hephaestion remained awake for a long time, staring out into the hot Indian night.

Where was Alexander now? Would he ever return safely to Camp?

Hephaestion felt a tear shed from pain and misery slowly trickle down his cheek.

When he woke up, doctor Philip was still at his bedside, keeping an anxious vigil together with Hieron and Pataikos. It was broad daylight outside and he tried to get up. A sharp, stabbing pain in his thigh made him fall back on the cushions. He put his hand on his brow, suddenly feeling very weak and dizzy. Doctor Philip tried to calm him down.

Rest easy, Hephaestion, rest easy or you will only make it worse.

How long have I been lying like this? I must get up, must see to all my work...

No, not yet, my friend. You have been laid up with a high fever for well over three days now, the good doctor sternly stated. You must rest some more before you do any work at all - and I cannot allow you to get up from bed at all until this leg of yours starts healing properly.

Hephaestion resigned to the good doctor's kind ministrations. His injury was slowly mending but no bandaging, ointments or other treatments could bring complete healing.

Only Alexander could help him to a complete recovery. And - there was still no news about the King and his troops.

The Desert of Sandar, 326 BC

Desert Surprise

The desert of Sandar was scalding hot and merciless as Alexander and his Macedonians marched all day through, with just very short breaks. The sun sent its flaming orange red rays down on them all, burning king and common soldier with the same unrelenting heat. If it hadn't been for the merciless heat the landscape could have been truly beautiful. The sand held many different nuances of brown, yellow and red. In some places it even shimmered like gold. There were also all kinds of sandstones that had been beaten into all kinds of wild and beautiful formations. One might think that nothing could grow and thrive in such a place, but the desert was filled with thorny bushes, dagger like yellow, gray and turquoise green grass and even some fragrant flowers and spicy herbs.

Hephaestion's calculations for food, water and supplies had been meticulous and they had more than enough to sustain themselves. When they sat down at dusk they all spoke well about the beautiful General as they enjoyed the food and drink he had supplied them with. They rested for an hour in the meager shade of some hapless dried out yellow oleander bushes. Now when the sun had set below the western horizon there came some well needed coolness. The evening soon became downright chilly. The Macedonians needed too march all night long to keep themselves warm.

At dawn they saw the walls of Agalassa towering before them in the shimmering hot rays of the rising sun. They hid themselves in a coppice filled with flame of the forest trees, carefully planning their surprise attack.

At the proud city of Agalassa the Mallians and Oxydracians had gathered their forces. They sorely mourned their brave warlord Ayurman, but now he had been replaced by another, even more fierce and dangerous one. Shankari the Ruthless deeply mourned his cousin Ayurman who had been cruelly slaughtered by the Macedonian invader. He intended to take a terrible revenge, and he had a brave and powerful ally in this. Ayurman's giant war elephant had survived the battle and was now his to command. He had assembled a large army of devoted warriors. They were so many that the city couldn't house them all. Many were now gathered in a camp in front of Agalassa's orange brick walls.

In the early morning hours they were sound asleep. The few sentries didn't expect any dangers. The Macedonians were far away at their camp at the confluence of the rivers Acesines and Hydaspes. They would have to march all around the Desert of Sandar to reach Agalassa. It ought to take them a whole week, perhaps even more.

No one had ever taken an army through the Desert of Sandar.!

The sentries were dozing securely, leaning on their spears. Sometimes they looked up, but soon they relapsed into another calm stupor.

Suddenly there was a rustle, like a gentle breeze through the air. The sentries looked up. There was no wind, nothing at all in the glowing heat of the emerging dawn. Then they saw a shimmering at the western horizon. The ground started to shake, and their ears were assaulted by that dreadful call.

A la la lai ! A la la lai! A la la lai!

The coppice filled with flame of the forest trees which suddenly sprouted a whole army of fierce Macedonian warriors. The blood red flowers hanging from the tree branches shivered ominously, foretelling the carnage and mayhem to come.

Now the whole Macedonian Army was all over the Mallians and Oxydracians at Agalassa. An awe inspiring Golden Warrior came riding on a giant black stallion. He seemed to be everywhere, it was as if his stallion was winged and lightning fast.

The proud city of Agalassa soon fell into the hands of the Macedonians. Shankari the Ruthless could do nothing but flee on his war elephant. He was chased from city to city, and they all fell like wheat before the scythe to the relentless young Warrior King.

Shankari the Ruthless had to make a last stand. He collected the remainder of his brave warriors at the heavily fortified city of Multan.

They would never surrender to the Macedonian invaders.

The Macedonian Camp At The Confluence Of The Rivers Hydaspes And Acesines, 326 BC

Good News - Bad Omens

Some weeks went by the Macedonian base camp. Hephaestion was better now, and in command of all. He sat in his office, resting in a comfortable chair with his bad leg on a cushioned footstool before him. There was lots of paper work on the desk. It had gathered in heap after heap during his illness. He was still not well enough to deal with it as quickly and competently as before, but he was too stubborn to call for any help. The Admiral Nearchus and the General Cleitus were always good and friendly towards him, but paper work was not one of their greatest strengths. They were now away down river to take care of fleeing enemies from King Alexander's campaign.

The Generals Craterus and Ptolemy were away up river to take care of enemies fleeing that way. Hephaestion missed his friend Ptolemy, but certainly not Craterus, and his constant and malicious slander.

Now a Royal Messenger came to him, carrying a scroll bearing the Macedonian Royal Seal.

There is good news, my General. King Alexander has captured the city of Agalassa and all the cities around. The Mallians and Oxydracians have fled and hidden themselves in the city of Multan. King Alexander will capture them soon, the siege will not last long. 

He handed over the scroll to Hephaestion. It was opened and read with great eagerness. The restless scribbling from the dear hand of Alexander told of the strenuous desert march, the multitudes of enemies, the many victories and cities taken - and his hopes of Reunion.

/ My dear One, for once I am weary of war and fighting. When I have taken revenge for the wrongs done to you, and secured our passage back to Persia I long to meet you again. I command you to go downriver and be ready to meet me at the Confluence of the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis.  /

Hephaestion rose with great difficulty and limped outdoors to give orders to move the Camp downriver.

Suddenly his tame panthers Nychta and Mavra came rushing to him. Nychta held something in her mouth, looking smug and satisfied with herself.

It was a Golden Eagle, torn into bloodied shreds, its beautiful golden feathers spilling in a sorrowful mess at his feet.

Hephaestion felt a cold hand grasp at his heart.

He didn't need to ask Aristander about the meaning of this Omen.

City Of Multan, 326 BC

Gift From The Death Goddess

At the city of Multan, Shankari the Ruthless prepared for his last stand against the Macedonian invaders. Not many remained of his proud army, but the ones at his side were the most fierce and brave of all. They waited behind the thick walls of red and orange clay and bricks, together with the devotional Brahmins. These Holy Men were usually peaceful, but now they all hoped and prayed for the downfall of King Alexander, the young Golden Devil being sent by the Dark Gods Shivah and Khali to haunt and harass them.

Shankari the Ruthless prayed more fervently than his bravest warriors. He was even more ardent in his prayers than the most devout of the pious Brahmins. As the Western invaders came closer he spent all day and all night long in the Temple of the Dark Goddess of Death, the awe inspiring Kali. He lay before her altar, prayed to her and made unmentionable offerings at her dark, blood stained shrine.

In the dead of night he woke up from an exhausted stupor. There was a magnificent woman at his side. Her skin was black as coal and she was dressed in splendid war like armour, adorned with pungent dark flowers and a belt made from human skulls. The strangest thing with her was that she had eight arms !

She held out a formidable, thick shafted arrow. Its head was three fingers broad and four fingers long, and its feathers were all black. The point dripped from a dark red fluid, emitting an acrid smell.

/THIS will be the downfall of your Enemy, my dear Shankari, bravest of my followers. Only the tears of a dear friend or lover can cure the wound it causes. Your Enemy is such a cruel and ruthless man. He cannot have any dear friends or lovers at all!/

Shankari took the arrow, bowing in reverence to the Goddess. He then fell into a stupor, lying senseless on the floor for hours and hours. When he woke up he thought that it must have been a wishful dream.

Something sharp and heavy rested in his hand. Black feathers tickled his fingers.

It was an Arrow, not like any other Arrow in the whole world.

All his prayers had come true. Now he had an irresistible weapon, giving him a chance against his invincible Enemy.

Arrow Of Vengeance

Now the day of reckoning had come to the Mallians and the city of Multan. The Macedonians swarmed in multitudes before the walls. They had powerful siege machines and they were cruel and eager to finish their endless Eastern campaigns. The Mallians bravely defended themselves and their city, but it was clear that they could not last for long. Soon the day came when the walls threatened to fall and cave in. The Macedonians had weapons and fighting techniques Shankari the Ruthless and his brave Mallian warriors had never seen before. They were most eager to enter the city.

Shankari the Ruthless was eagerly climbing his walls all the time, intently watching for an opportunity to fire his lethal arrow against King Alexander. He had it constantly notched at his double curved horn bow. He often saw the young King amongst his Macedonians, but there was never a good enough chance to hit the mark. He was always thoroughly protected by two towering giant men in silver studded armour. They never let the King out of sight. Shankari assumed that they were his closest body guards, and they protected the King with their own bodies, making it impossible get a clean shot at him.

One day the invaders were more active than usual. Some of them were so eager that they couldn't wait for the sappers and engineers and their undermining the thick red walls of Multan. Suddenly four men were standing on their own at the wall.

One of them was King Alexander himself !

Shankari couldn't believe his luck. He notched his Arrow, preparing to launch it.

Too late ! King Alexander fell from the walls, right into his brave Mallian warriors. They swarmed around him, making him an impossible target. The Golden Warrior brandished his sword and swung it around fast as lightning. Shankari the Ruthless saw with dismay how his brave warriors and friends were hacked into pieces by this extraordinarily brave, strong and merciless warrior. Now he was joined by three more giant, towering men. They fought like gods or demons, sending more and more of the Mallians into the dark realms of Death.

The many slain Mallians soon formed a broad path of sorrowful blood stained corpses in front of the young warrior King. Shankari saw him standing with his back against a dried old scarlet cordia tree, beckoning to him as a perfect target. He raised his bow, notching the lethal arrow. The shot must be perfect - and it was. King Alexander was hit to the right in his chest. The impact was so hard that he slammed into the dry tree trunk, and he called out in agony. Then he saw his attacker, and he came at Shankari, sword in his good left hand. Despite his grave injury, King Alexander was still fast as lightning. Shankari was so elated by his perfect shot that he was quite unable to avoid the lethal blade. It was like being impaled on a sizzling hot iron. The pain was overwhelming.

The last thing Shankari the Ruthless saw before Darkness claimed him was young King Alexander standing over him with his bloodied sword in hand, seemingly unaffected by the arrow firmly lodged in his ribcage.

/ It must be true. It is TRUE,  was Shankari's very last thought. King Alexander really is invincible.

Weariness

Stefanos was standing near the wall of the Mallian city. It was extremely hot and dusty and all that red dust and hot glaring sun clouded his eyes. He had become more weary of war and killing these days. King Alexander's glorious conquests had turned into an endless marching against foes in all directions. His brave and victorious army had been transformed into a cruel killing machine. Even the young King himself had changed. Gone was his fierce longing and curiosity, gone was his fervent engagement for his Companions and Army. Even his excellent powers to govern his army and peoples had started to fade away.

It was as if the King actually wanted to punish his faithful Macedonians for refusing his endless Eastern Quest and wanting to go back to their far away home.

The only thing that had not changed with Alexander's was his warm feelings for his True Steadfast friend - the General Hephaestion. Stefanos was very worried for him. He had recently been severely wounded, and was now resting in the Camp near the Confluence of the Acesines and Hydraotis. Stefanos knew that Alexander's fierce longing to defeat the Mallians and Oxydracians came from his need to have revenge upon the ones who had inflicted such pain and distress to his True Steadfast Friend.

He was very worried for the young King. His usual recklessness had been much worse of late, and he had been prone to take far too many risks both on behalf of himself and his faithful Army.

Stefanos was always vigilant, always alert to protect the King from dangers. Now, to his own disgrace, he found himself dozing off in a senseless stupor leaning onto his spear. It was similar to the feelings he got when he stood listening to the endless War Councils - albeit far worse.

Suddenly, a deafening sound of shouting and yelling woke him up from his weary drowsing. To his great dismay he saw King Alexander standing at the top of the wall, together with three other heavily armed Companions, Peukestas, Leonnatus and Abreas. They were in a disastrous position, surrounded by enemies. The Mallian archers were most alert. Darts virtually rained over them, like a swarm of angry and belligerent hornets. The hypaspists desperately climbed onto the siege ladders to come to the rescue of the King and his three brave Companions.

They were so many that the ladders broke down one after one. The brave and eager rescuers fell in a hapless heap down the walls. Stefanos heard them cry out loud in distress. Some of them had broken and sprained both arms and legs, but still they tried to climb the walls once more.

Bring more ladders! We MUST get to the King ! 

Now King Alexander and his Companions stood all alone against the Enemy. Suddenly the King seemed to slip off the wall. He fell backwards, soaring forever in mid air before he fell into the hostile city. Stefanos would never forget the expression of sheer astonishment on his face when he soared down into the city of Multan.

All who saw the King falling down into the Enemy's city called out load. Their cries of dismay soared around the besieged city, heard by all. A great uproar begun in the Macedonian troops. All who had wearily dozed off came running to the walls, bringing fresh siege ladders. Blushing with shame they started to climb. They were so many and so eager that some of them had to climb up the sheer walls clawing with their bare hands and feet.

To the King! To the King,  they shouted, mad with worrying.

Stefanos was amongst the very first climbing to the rescue. He managed to get a quick and nimble hold on the siege ladder. Soon he was standing at the top of the wall. To his great anguish he saw King Alexander leaning back to a dried up tree. He had been shot with a thick and grim arrow. It pointed out from the right side of his chest. Blood was running freely in a crimson river down his bright and shining armour. It mixed with the red dust from the dry ground that covered the King from head to feet. He was in agony and staggering from shock and loss of blood. Still he was fighting bravely on with his sword dripping from enemy blood. The brave warrior Abreas lay stone dead at his feet, a cruel Mallian arrow protruding from his brow. Peukestas and Leonnatus were still on their feet, bleeding from several wounds. They bravely defended their reckless young King. Peukestas held the Shield from Troy before them, using it to ward of the Enemies swarming around them. The ground was covered with dead Mallians. The King and his brave Companions virtually waded in them. Still the Mallians went for him, in an endless trail, howling with maddened blood thirst.

King Alexander and his brave Companions could not last much longer against this massive assault.

Stefanos was alarmed and terrified at seeing their futile battle against the overwhelming and superior numbers of the Mallian Enemy. All the same he fearlessly jumped down from the wall in the midst off the fighting mad Mallians. With no regard of his own safety he cleaved a mighty path through them with his sword and came up to King Alexander. By then the young King was almost unconscious and in a very bad way. He was leaning back to the trunk of the dried tree, with blood oozing from his arrow wound, and also from his mouth. His breath was so labored that it was heard all over the battlefield. It came in agonizing gasps, and Stefanos saw that King Alexander could not last much longer in this dreadful state.

Stefanos took him in his arms and tried to comfort him. Alexander was very hot and damp and the faithful guard could feel all his agony and exhaustion almost as if it had been his own. It reminded him of how he had held and comforted his dear dying father during his very last moments. He shuddered at the bad omen, but still held on to his King, protecting him from the massive Enemy assault with his own body.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp and stinging pain in his right shoulder. A numbing feeling crept down to his right hand, and the arm became paralyzed and senseless. Stefanos still held on to his King, all until the Mallians had been utterly defeated and the ones not running away lay dead on the ground around the Macedonians.

King Alexander lay limp and listless in Stefanos' arms. His face was very pale, turned into an uncanny yellow tone. He didn't seem to be breathing at all. Blood was oozing freely from the terrible wound in his chest, and also from his mouth. The faithful guard was numb from shock and grief as he heard someone call out:

The King is dead! The King is DEAD!

A la la lai ! A la la lai! A la la lai!

The Macedonian war cry reverberated all over the city of Multan, as King Alexander's faithful soldiers took a gruesome revenge on the Mallians. The city soon became a den of horrors, filled with mayhem and bloodshed. The cries from the dying mixed with the cries of anguish and terror from children and women. It went on for ever and ever, all until the silence of Death and endless Grief rested as a blood red pall all over the city of Multan.

The blood of the slain and the tears of the grieving mixed with the red dust on the ground, oozing all over the streets, like a river of cruel crimson.

Stefanos and the brave Companions helped to put King Alexander on the Shield of Troy. Then they hauled him over the wall to safety. As they carried the King to safety and shade from the suffocating heat a messenger rushed to alert the doctor and surgeon Critodemus of Kos. Not knowing if King Alexander was dead or alive they put him to rest under some big Rusty Shield Bearer trees. Stefanos and his companion Alexios sat at his side, looking for vital signs. They couldn't see him breathing at all, and his face was white, turning into an uncanny yellowish translucence.

How is he? , Peukestas worriedly asked.

Not well, not well at all,  Stefanos answered.  He has lost so much blood, and I am not sure if he is breathing at all...

All standing around in the shade of the Rusty Shield Bearer trees were silently crying. Tears were flowing freely down the cheeks of the battle hardened Macedonians. Stefanos felt something grasp around his left hand. It was a Tree of Sorrow, tickling him with its fragrant white flowers.

Another bad omen.

Not until now did Stefanos noticed the cruel, thick Mallian arrow protruding from his own shoulder. Blood was oozing freely down his numb and paralyzed right arm and hand. He was slowly losing consciousness, but he determinedly fought the urge to pass out.

His King needed him.

The Confluence Camp at the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis, 326 BC

Daydreaming Nightmare

Hephaestion sat looking at the unending heaps of dispatches and scrolls coming to him from all ends of the earth. Normally, he liked administration and paper work. Even his worst detractors had told him that he was very good at it, and that his sense of order was meticulous.

Now he was feeling sick and tired of the endlessly looming and sliding heaps on his desk. All that he wanted was to be at Alexander's side. Where was his friend now ? How did his campaign against the Mallians proceed ? There had been no news at all for well over a week now.

The heat in the tent was unendurable. It made his fever worse, and his wounded leg was swollen and throbbing from pain. The air was chokingly still, and the fans his servants were wafting brought no coolness at all. Hephaestion looked at the enormous ostrich feathers. They lulled him into a condition where he was falling asleep with his eyes open.

/ He was back at Gaza, that day very long ago when Alexander had had Bad Omens and been told by his favourite soothsayer Aristander to stay away from the fighting. Reckless as usual he had ignored the wise Aristander's warnings and thrown himself straight into the battle before the inexpugnable walls. Hephaestion was bravely fighting at the King's side together with Cleitus. The sheer mass of enemies forced them away from the Golden One. He brandished his sword and cleaved a wide swath around himself. The enemies fell like wheat before the scythe. Soon he would be at Alexander's side once more.

Too late!

He saw the trebuchet high up on the walls, loaded with a cruel, armour breaking arrow. It was aimed directly towards Alexander - and now it was notched and fired ! He saw it soar towards his Golden One.

He ran towards Alexander, swift as lightning, screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs to alert him of the danger. Alexander got his shield up, shaking it defiantly at the trebuchet and the defender who handled it.

Too late!

The arrow went straight through Alexander's thick shield and lodged firmly in his right shoulder. He fell backwards, straight into Hephaestion's arms.

His Golden One was bleeding profusely, his beautiful gray eyes wide from shock and pain. He drew one gasping breath with great difficulty, and then one more. Then there was no more. Alexander passed out, white as chalk.

There were no signs of life at all. /

Hephaestion felt a hot, searing pain in his right side. He was suddenly out of breath. It was impossible for him to get any air at all! He grasped at his side in panic, trying to call out for help. No words came out. His young pages Hieron and Pataikos held on to him, calling to him with anxious high voices.

General Hephaestion! How are you? Oh no, now he is not breathing at all. Go fetch doctor Philip, immediately !

General Cleitus came into the office, carrying another heap of dispatches. When he saw the beautiful General fallen backwards into his chair, white from shock and pain and totally out of breath he dropped them to the ground and ran to Hephaestion's side. Doctor Philip came rushing into the Royal Tent carrying his medical satchel.

How is he? Has he had another setback?

Yes, Philip, he is in a very bad way right now, Cleitus answered with great worry. I have seen him like this once before, at the Danube. Alexander must be in grave danger.

TBC


	3. Fighting The Goddess Of Death

Hello all,

Here comes part three. We left our Dear Ones in a dreadful situation. Alexander has been hit by the Mallian Arrow and his life is in grave danger. Hephaestion and his friends has an angst filled wait before them at the Confluence camp. And now there is an even more dangerous Adversary he will have to fight for the very life of his Golden One.

All the best wishes and hopefully good reading,

/ NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Mallian Arrow. ( 3 / 5 )  
Author: NorthernLight  
Email address:  
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure story. AR  
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion  
Date: July 2008  
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, on and off list  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only. This is for my great and long term interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their times and and great adventures.  
Beta: Denise. Many thanks for interesting suggestions and discussions. You sure make my stories a far better read.  
Summary: Due to reckless actions, Alexander receives a serious arrow wound at the Mallian's city. I have taken the liberty to use the AR concept to explain his ruthless war against the Mallians.  
Warnings: Angst. War and violence. Serious injury to major character.  
Botanical note: My thanks to D V Cowen and his excellent book on Flowering Trees & Shrubs in India.

Dedication: To Coral, in answer to your Mallian Arrow fic challenge. I'm a very slow writer, but this story have been ready in my head for a very long time. My apologies for not finishing it earlier.

**Mallian Arrow, Part Three**

****

The Macedonian Camp At The City Of The Mallians, 326 BC

Emergency Aid

Stefanos sat in the cooling shade under the big Rusty Shield Bearer tree. He was tired unto death from war, worries and fighting, and now he had been shot with an arrow in his right shoulder, too. The wound was a bad one. He could feel his shoulder throb and ache from the arrow still stuck into it, and his whole right arm was numbing. The faithful guard had no time to delve into his own troubles and sufferings.

There was someone else who suffered even more !

King Alexander rested in his lap, and he was in a very bad way. The cruel Mallian Arrow sat firmly stuck in his chest. Blood was oozing freely from the wound, and Stefanos and the other Companions could not see if the King was breathing at all. They had unlaced and removed his heavy corselet as much as possible, but it had brought no improvement in their important patient. Now Critodemus from Kos came running up with his medical satchel dangling in his hand. The doctor was panting heavily and white around his eyes and mouth from shock and fright.

How is the King?,  he anxiously asked.

He has been very seriously hurt,  Peucestas ominously stated. This dreadful arrow might have already taken his life. 

As to oppose this despaired statement, Alexander suddenly gasped for breath and arched his back in sheer agony. They all noticed the strange wheezing sound emanating from the wound. The King lifted his good left hand and pressed it tightly around the ghastly wound and the arrow lodged within. He then looked up to his Companions with his beautiful gray eyes filled with pain and distress.

Pull it out! Pull it out for the sake of Zeus and all the Gods ! he gasped out, his voice a mere whisper from lack of air and the excruciating pain.

He gasped once more, looking at them in sheer agony. Critodemus the doctor gave him a careful examination, taking on an even more frightened appearance for every prodding he made. Afterwards he gave his Royal patient a solemn look.

My King, I cannot remove this arrow without great danger for your life. This is no ordinary wound,  the frightened doctor stated. The arrow is firmly lodged in your right lung. The bleeding, when I take it out, might very well kill you instantly. 

But I cannot survive with this thing stuck into my ribcage. Take it out ! Take it out - NOW!

Critodemus stood there at the side of his Royal patient. His hands were trembling, and he didn't even open his satchel for the proper instruments. Alexander gave him a disapproving look.

You! YOU! You are no good at all. Now I must try to take it out myself!

The hapless patient instantly started to pull at the arrow with his good left hand. It was firmly lodged into his ribcage and it did not budge at all.

No. It won't come out. Help me! Help me for Zeus' sake!

The Companions looked with great dismay as the King cried out loud from unbearable pain and then passed out. Peucestas and Leonnatos shook Critodemus, giving him a brutal awakening from his frightened apathy.

Critodemus! You MUST help him. You must act NOW! The King will not survive at all if you don't take the arrow out at once,Peucestas roared, Alexander should have let doctor Philip follow this army instead of you! HE sure would have acted with haste!

The frightened doctor slowly regained his senses and opened his satchel. He produced a jar with strong wine, a pair of pincers and a sharp, curved knife.

Yes, I will give it a try. He will not survive at all if I don't. Hold him down firmly. This will hurt a lot. 

Stefanos took the King's head gently in his hands, preparing himself to give more firm support. Alexios held on to Alexander's good left arm and hand, and Peucestas and Leonnatos pressed down on his legs. The King's frightened pages stood ready to assist Critodemus.

Stefanos felt his hands tremble from weariness and loss of blood. He was on the verge of passing out and letting go of his important charge.

/ Father Zeus, please grant me the strength to help my King through this ordeal! /

His ardent prayer was instantly heard. He felt Another Presence at his side, giving him calm and strength, making his hands steady and his head clear. Now he was able to hold on to Alexander and help him through all the pain and suffering that was to come.

Critodemus was a skilled doctor and surgeon, but this was the very worst emergency he had ever been asked to handle.

The welfare of King Alexander was the welfare of all!

Critodemus' hands were trembling from fright and anxiety, and he had to press them firmly together to steady them enough to perform the difficult surgery. He grasped the pincers and tried to pull the arrow out. It was impossible. The only result was a cry of pain from the hapless patient. He then cleansed the wound and the sharp, curved knife with strong wine and made two cuts at both sides of the thick arrow shaft. Then he made another try with the pincers. Now the arrow slowly moved out of the ribcage. It stuck once more, and he had to make more cuts. Alexander moved fitfully, groaning and moaning from sheer agony. His faithful guards and Companions held on to him for dear life. Critodemus lodged the pincers firmly around the arrow and slowly worked it to and fro, careful not to cause more damage when the barbs remained stuck in the patient's flesh. The arrow at long last gave way and moved upwards. The doctor now pulled with all his might.

Suddenly, the cruel Mallian Arrow came out from the King's ribcage. The removal was so fast and violent that Critodemus fell flat on his back, holding the pincers and the arrow in a firm grasp. A torrent of bright red blood gushed from the wound, followed by a wheezing rush of air. The patient cried out from pain and some more blood oozed from his mouth. Then his head fell to the side and he became white as chalk. The blood trickled from the wound and his mouth for some time before it stopped.

Alexander was not breathing at all. The Companions were crying openly and out loud. Stefanos saw drops of misty water falling on Alexander's face.

It was not rain, it was his own tears.

The King is dead! The King is DEAD!

Once more Stefanos heard the dreadful call. An opposing thought formed in his grief filled mind.

/ King Alexander cannot be dead! He CANNOT !!  /

A beautiful bright red flower with tender and fragrant petals drifted with a soft breeze into his good hand. He held it before Alexander's mouth and nose. At first there was no reaction at all, nothing but utter stillness.

Suddenly it fluttered and moved faintly upwards - once - and once again. Then it found a steady movement up and down.

Alexander was alive ! His vital signs were very weak, but he was alive. That was all that mattered!

Critodemus was now on his feet, recovering from his embarrassing fall. He crossed his hands over his chest in a prayer of Thanks to Asclepius and all the Gods and Goddesses of Healing. The Companions joined him. The doctor then washed his patient with wine and put a compress to the wound before he wrapped some clean linen bandages around his ribcage. Critodemus now felt confident and able to handle the situation.

The King is alive, and he will survive this dreadful injury - but only with the most meticulous and attentive care,  he adamantly stated.  He must be put to bed. Let us take him to his tent and see to him properly.

The Companions quickly produced a litter and carefully lifted Alexander onto it. Stefanos helped them, still holding on to Alexander's head. He proceeded to help out with carrying the King back to camp. Suddenly the ground came rushing towards him. He fell flat on his nose into the dry, sweet smelling grass. His fellow Guardian Alexios was instantly at his side.

Oh no. You have been wounded, too. I didn't notice that arrow in your shoulder, not with our King in such peril. Alexios worriedly called out, No, you must not give up on me, not now when we at long last are on our way home!

Stefanos felt his mind drift away as his body shivered and was covered with cold sweat. Critodemus came to him and swiftly removed the arrow from his aching shoulder. The pain was horrible but his friend Alexios held on to him and talked to him all through the agonizing procedure. Afterwards the doctor put on a compress and dressings and bound his arm up tightly at the side of his body.

You are very pale, my friend. Shall I bring you a litter, too?,  Alexios kindly asked.

Stefanos adamantly shook his head and slowly rose from the ground. He was feeling very weak and dizzy from the pain and loss of blood , but he had an important mission.

His King still needed him.

The Companions slowly and carefully carried Alexander back to camp. Stefanos and Alexios followed, and Alexios gave his stubborn friend some discreet and well needed support when he was obstinate with helping out to carry the King's litter, against Critodemus' well intended advise.

**Nightmares Of A Wounded King**

/ Alexander's chest was afire. The pain was unendurable. He was not able to breathe at all. He gasped for air, but his throat and chest were constricted and he felt like he was suffocating. Now a raw and painful cough harassed his tormented body. There was blood filling his mouth, he was choking on it and he felt it rushing down his throat and breast.

He was lying under a large tree, all alone in a desolate, unknown place surrounded by a pitch black Nothingness. A strange looking, enormous, dark skinned woman came towards him. She wore a splendid Indian warlike armour. adorned with feathers in bright red and blue colours. Around her waist was a belt with human skulls, making an ear tormenting rattling sound with her every move. The bleached skulls looked like they had gone through much woe and suffering before they reached their present deplorable state.

The strangest thing with her was that she had eight arms.

Alexander instantly knew who he must face !

Kali, the Indian and Mallian Goddess of Death and Destruction.

He shivered in his unconscious state, knowing that he did not have the strength to resist the Death Goddess of his Enemies, not on his own.

No, you will not have me, he weakly called out to the dreadful creature.NO, I will not yield to you, NEVER.

She came at him with an enormous flashing cleaver in hand. It swiftly ascended upon him. He grasped for his sword, but it was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly there was Someone behind the Death Goddess. A fierce auburn haired Warrior grappling at her with his bare hands, dragging her away from her defenseless prey.

NO, you will NOT have him! He is mine! He is MINE!

The Voice of his Dear One. Hephaestion had come to him in his hour of desperate need. He was limping and weakened by his recent injuries, but he was ready to fight against the Death Goddess all the same. She hissed at him like a venomous snake, she clawed at him with her razor sharp nails and she tried to slice him into pieces with her cruel cleaver.

All her violent efforts were to no avail. Hephaestion wrung the cleaver out of her strong dark hands, throwing it away into the Nothingness. She had eight arms, but his mere two were more powerful since he fought for a rightful cause. After a long and strenuous fight Kali the Death Goddess was thrown into the Nothingness surrounding them. She hissed and screamed for a long time, and then she was gone as if she had never existed.

Alexander watched his dear One fight for his very life. He was gasping for air, but as the Death Goddess weakened he felt that he was breathing easier and that the burning and suffocating pain in his chest was slowly withdrawing. Hephaestion came to him , taking him into his arms, giving him kind solace and comfort.

Suddenly his friend was dissolving into a coalescent, blue mist.

Hephaestion was gone from him!

No! NOOOO! Don't leave me! I need you. Now I need you more than ever!

Alexander drifted into unconsciousness once more, pain and agony marring his beautiful features./

**The Confluence Camp at the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis, 326 BC**

**Emergency Aid  
**

Doctor Philip quickly removed Hephaestion's chiton and gave him a thorough examination. There was a big purple bruise on the right side of his ribcage, and he was swollen and hurting all over his chest. He winced and cried out when the good doctor felt all over, but he didn't wake up. The good doctor was very worried about the state of his important patient. Hephaestion was very pale, almost translucent. He was immersed in cold sweat and shivered constantly from severe chills.

It is something very strange with all this,  doctor Philip told Cleitus and the worried pages. He has cracked another rib. It is a very bad injury, almost as if he had been arrow shot. I cannot understand what could have brought this on. You say that he was just sitting here working calmly with his administration and logistics as usual. 

Yes, the General Hephaestion was no worse than before. He sat here falling asleep at the desk. We did not disturb him, he is working so hard for us all that he needs to rest sometimes. young Hieron answered. Then he suddenly called out as if in great pain, and he could not breathe at all. 

Doctor Philip administered a pain relieving concoction to his patient before anointing his ribcage and chest with camphor and arnica. He wrapped clean linen dressings around and then he adamantly ordered:

My patient must be put to bed. No more work for some days to come. He needs complete rest. I certainly hope that this new ailment has been brought upon him by too much work only...

Yes, me too - but I have seen him in this state once before,  Cleitus answered. I hope that we will not receive bad news about King Alexander...

Cleitus and doctor Philip carried Hephaestion to his bed and helped him to rest as comfortable as possible, supporting him with cushions in a half sitting position to make him to relax and breathe more easy. He was feeling a little better now. His colour was up and his respiration came with greater ease, even if it was still laboured. He sometimes called out in great pain and anguish.

Alexander! ALEXANDER! Don't leave me ! Don't you dare to leave me !

Suddenly the beautiful General was sitting erect in bed, his bright blue eyes wide open in shock and pain. He was gasping for air, and clutched at his injured right side. Cleitus and Philip held on to him and gently put him back to rest on the cushions.

Easy, easy, Hephaestion, rest easy now. All is well with King Alexander, it MUST be !  they told him. You must lay down and keep quiet, or else all your injuries will get even worse. 

They sat vigilantly watching at their dear patient's bedside all evening and all night long. Hephaestion was very worried and almost delirious for several hours. Not even doctor Philip's calming concoctions made from poppy and valerian could put him to rest. Then he fell into an uneasy slumber, often calling out loud in pain and distress.

All in Camp came asking for the health of the General Hephaestion. All were greatly worried, since they were well aware of his close bond to the King. Even the General Craterus was anxious. Alexander was one of his very best friends, and he feared that he had come upon some dreadful adversity.

How was King Alexander now ? There had been no news for a week from his Mallian campaign. When there was any, would they be good, or...

**Nightmares Of A Worried Friend**

/ Hephaestion was gasping for breath. His side was catching him , it was feeling even worse then when he fell to the ground and cracked his ribs. He heard his young pages call out to him in worry and alarm, then Cleitus and doctor Philip came. They did what they could to help him, but he was in such agony that he was unable to appreciate their efforts.

Suddenly he was drawn away from the Royal tent, reappearing in a far away place.

There was a battle going on inside a city built from red and yellow brick. People were screaming in terror and the Macedonian war cry rolled all over the place.

A la la lai! A la la lai! A la la lai!

Many people were gathering under some giant trees a short way from the city, gathering around someone who had been very seriously injured. They were crying and shouting in sorrow and outrage. Hephaestion drifted closely, wanting to see who they were gathering around. As he came near he saw his brave fellow Companions, Peucestas, Leonnatos, Alexios - and the calm and reliable Stefanos.

Alexander rested in the arms of Stefanos. The faithful Guard held on to his King for dear life. even though he was seriously wounded himself. An arrow was stuck in his right shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice. He was far too occupied with his important charge. Alexander was in a very bad way. He did not seem to be breathing at all and he was deathly pale and wan.

A cruel, thick Arrow protruded from his chest. Critodemus from Cos came to do the vital operation to remove it. Hephaestion saw that Stefanos was wavering to and fro. The faithful guard was weakened by his own injury, and he did not seem to be able to support Alexander during the coming ordeal. Hephaestion sat himself at Stefanos' side and helped him to hold on to Alexander. The guard and the patient became calmer and steadier from his support, and he helped and sustained them during all stages of the the dangerous operation. He spoke words of comfort and reassurance, but no one seemed to hear him.

Now the cruel Arrow had been removed and Alexander had all but survived the painful procedure. His chest and ribcage were swathed into thick bandages, and there were dark red stains of blood on them. Hephaestion tried to call out to his friend, but there were no words to be heard. The air was hot and spinning around him, throwing him into a sickening vertigo.

All of a sudden the Companions the trees, the city of brick red were all gone, as if they never had existed. He and Alexander were the only ones left. The world had turned into a cold, dreadful pitch black Nothingness all around them.

Now a strange looking, enormous, dark skinned woman came towards Alexander, wielding a sharp, gleaming cleaver. She wore a splendid Indian warlike armour. adorned with feathers in bright red and blue colours. Around her waist was a belt with human skulls, making an ear tormenting rattling sound with her every move. The strangest thing about her was that she had eight arms, all of them black and oscillating, like a hungry octopus ready to grasp its hapless prey.

It must be Kali, the Indian Goddess of Death and Destruction.

She prepared to let her grim cleaver descend on Alexander. Hephaestion would not let her do her Evil deed. He called out in outrage, and now he found his voice.

NO, you will NOT have him! He is mine! He is MINE!

Alexander looked up, his beautiful gray eyes filled with love and reassurance.

Phai! You came to me. I knew that you would...

Even in this strange dreamscape Hephaestion was feeling very weak. His legs did not support him properly, and he had great difficulties in breathing. He was hurting very badly from his injuries, and he knew that he was no match for an adversary looking like Hell itself. The sight of his Beautiful Golden One laying there in agony, weak and defenseless suddenly filled him with a righteous fury. His arms and hands surged with a new found strength as he made a lunge at the Death Goddess and wrapped them around her. She was cold and merciless, feeling like an enormous and unrelenting snake in his grasp. She spitted and hissed at him, like a venomous animal, and she wielded her grim cleaver threatening to carve him into pieces. When he tried to take it from her she shifted it from arm to arm, and since she had eight of them it was a most uneven match.

Hephaestion knew that he had to be swift and nimble, using ruse since he would never be able to best this She Devil with sheer force. He took his blue cloak and flung it at her feral face. The diversion made it possible for him to grasp at the cleaver and throw it away into the cold, dark Nothingness surrounding them.

Hephaestion wrestled with the Death Goddess for a very long time. She seemed to suck all vitality from him, but he was filled with righteousness, knowing that the very life of his Golden One depended on his endurance. At long last the dark skinned woman weakened and became limp and listless in his arms.

You win, my beautiful one, she hissed at him, but your victory will be of no avail. Your time together with HIM will soon come to an end.

Hephaestion felt an ice cold hand of dread clutch at his heart as he threw the Death Goddess into the dark, cold Nothingness. Rays of a Golden Sun came warming towards him. Alexander beckoned to him. Alexander needed him. He rushed to his Golden One, taking him into his arms, giving what comfort he was able to offer. Strangely, even in this weakened state, Alexander was able to share his warmth and strength. Hephaestion was feeling better than for many a day as he was engulfed in Alexander's unique golden vitality.

Suddenly strong arms pulled him away. Alexander reached for him in desperation and cried out in sheer agony.

No! NOOOO! Don't leave me! I need you. Now I need you more than ever!

Hephaestion reached in vain for his Golden One, but his hands found nothing, no one.

Alexander! ALEXANDER !! he managed to call out before he fell into oblivion as Darkness claimed him. /

**The Macedonian Camp at the City Of The Mallians, 326 BC**

****

Worried Vigil

The Companions and faithful guards brought King Alexander back to his Royal tent, carefully carrying him on a litter. When they were inside, Critodemus, the guards and the Royal pages helped to undress the King and wash him clean from the blood and dirt from the battlefield. When they were ready, Critodemus saw to his dreadful wound once more and put on healing balms and compresses with healing poultices before he bound it with new dressings. After this they put Alexander to bed, supporting him with soft cushions and trying to make him rest as comfortable as possible. The patient called out several times in pain and agony, but after Critodemus had administered a calming concoction he fell into a fitful slumber, calling out time and again for Hephaestion.

You must watch closely over him. He must not be left alone, not at any time,  the worried doctor adamantly stated. I will go away for now. There are many more wounded who need my care - but you must fetch me immediately if the King is taking a turn for the worse. 

The doctor left the faithful Guards and Companions. They were so worried that no one left the tent and it became hot and crowded in the suffocating Indian heat. The patient had great difficulties in breathing, and gasped for fresh air. The servants waving the enormous ostrich fans could not bring it to him and they looked in desperation at each other. Alexios came to the rescue.

My friends and gentlemen. You must leave at once. The King needs rest and fresh air. You have all been of great help, but now only time will heal him, the faithful Guard told them. You must be reassured that we will give him the very best of care.

They mumbled and grumbled as they reluctantly left the tent, forming a circle of protection around it. Stefanos, Alexios and the King's young pages remained to see to his needs. Evening came quickly, descending as a dark pall over the Royal tent. It brought some well needed cool and refreshing air, and the pages lifted the tent flap to let it in to their Royal patient.

Alexander lay unconscious for three whole days and nights, verging at Death's own door. He was running a very high fever, the wound showed no signs of healing and he was in constant pain and agony. Critodemus managed to give him some occasional sips of water, but no solid food or other nourishment.

The King seemed to be slowly languishing away, slowly dying without his True Steadfast Friend at his side.

Stefanos sat constantly and calmly at the King's bedside. He had a comfortable chair and his wounded right arm and shoulder were supported by a soft pillow. He was feeling very tired and his head was spinning from blood loss and dizziness, but he did not give in to it.

His King needed him.

Now it was the third night he was sitting there faithfully at Alexander's bedside. The night lamp was burning low and its flickering flame created all kinds of ominous shadows, chasing each other all around the tent. Sometimes Stefanos thought that he saw an ominous dark skinned woman with eight coal black arms, dressed in Indian battle armour, and wielding a cruel cleaver, threatening the King. He shooed at her, making a Prayer against all Evil. She disappeared into the shadows, spitting and hissing at him.

/ I must be delirious from surgical fever,  Stefanos mused. She cannot be here - but still she seems so very REAL!

Stefanos had always been guarding someone important, ever since the long gone days when he took care of his smaller siblings. Now it was even more important. King Alexander was very ill from his wound. He was feverish and moved restlessly in his fitful sleep. Suddenly he gasped out and tried to sit up. He was wide awake, his beautiful gray eyes filled with pain and shock.

Hephaestion !,  he called out in anguish. Hephaestion! He must have heard about all this by now. He will think that I am dead !

Cold sweat ran in streams from his troubled brow, chilling his whole body. Now he was trembling all over, and Stefanos held him in his strong arms, as one might do to calm a frightened child.

Rest easy, my King. Rest easy. Hephaestion will know that you are alive,  he tried to reassure the Royal patient. You have this special bond between you. Of course he will feel your pain and distress, but it will also convince him that you are still alive. 

Alexander gasped for air and pressed his hand tight to the terrible wound at the right side of his chest. He coughed several times, until he brought up some bright red blood. It also stained the white bandages wrapped around his chest.

Cannot breathe anymore...so much pain...it catches me...here...

Stefanos desperately held on to the King as he called out for help.

Alexios! Bring the doctor here - at once!

His fellow Guardian stuck his head into the tent. When he saw the King in this state he immediately ran away. In a couple of minutes he returned with the doctor. Critodemus was frightened, his face shining white in the dim shadows.

How is the King,  he worriedly asked.

Much worse now, doctor,  Stefanos reported. He had some bad dreams. He misses his friend so much. Oh, how I wish Hephaestion were here! 

Yes, me too. If he had been at the King's side this disaster would never have occurred !

Critodemus proceeded to examine his Royal patient. Alexios lit another oil lamp and held it so they all could see better through the gloomy nighttime shadows. When the doctor removed the bandage they instantly saw the cause of Alexander's distress. A splinter of the arrow had been left in the King's flesh. It was now jutting straight out through his fair skin, and moving for every breath. The wound itself looked raw and angry, its rims red and swollen.

Oh no. That sure must hurt. Bring me some hot water and a jar of wine, and also some clean bandages !

Critodemus opened his knapsack and produced a pair of pincers and a sharp, curved knife. The King's servants instantly came with all that he had asked for.

Hold on to him, Stefanos and Alexios,  he adamantly told the faithful guards. This will hurt a lot, almost as badly as when I removed the arrow. 

Critodemus worked as fast as he was able. The splinter was stuck deeply and it was very hard to remove. He had to dig and twitch deeply into the wound to remove it. Stefanos and Alexios sat at the end of the bed, holding on to Alexander with a strong grip on the King's shoulders. The patient rested amazingly still and calm during the painful procedure. He only cried out once, when the doctor made a quick jerk and held up the splinter before his eyes.

Look, Alexander, look at what you had lodged inside yourself. Now it's all over. This horrid thing won't hurt you anymore.

Alexander gave the splinter a close gaze, and then suddenly all light went from his beautiful gray eyes. His head fell to the side as all color went from his face. The King was mercifully unconscious. They washed him thoroughly clean, and cleansed the wound with strong wine and hot water before putting on compresses filled with healing herbs and wrapping clean bandages all around his chest. When they were almost finished Alexander moaned and started to fidget from pain and unrest. Critodemus produced a bowl filled with a black concoction, smelling strongly from laudanum, camphor and willow weed. He gave it to the King, gently supporting his golden haired head with his left arm, as he put the bowl to the patient's lips. Alexander recognized the pain relieving concoction and drank it down, although with great difficulty. It took forever for the medication to help him. Not until another hour had passed the King was claimed by a fitful slumber. Critodemus  
watched him, wringing his hands in puzzled worry.

I don't understand this wound at all. I have done all that I can, cleansed it with wine, strong liquor and hot water, put on all kinds of healing and cleansing ointments and poultices. Still it shows no sign of healing. It is as if it had been infested with some kind of death dealing poison.

Alexander fidgeted to and fro in his unruly slumber. He clutched at his side, calling out in agony.

Hephaestion! HEPHAESTION! Where are you? I need you, I need you so badly!

His breath laboured, he coughed several times and once more brought up bright, red blood. Stefanos held on to him and wiped his mouth with a clean linen cloth. He desperately tried to comfort his Royal patient.

Rest easy, my King, rest easy. You must stay calm, or else you will make this dreadful wound even worse.

The faithful guard looked at Critodemus in desperation.

What are we to do? Whatever are we to DO? The General Hephaestion is far away at our other camp. We cannot bring him here now, neither can we take King Alexander to him, Stefanos worriedly said. Still, the King needs him here and now! He is the only one who can cure him.

Yes, I agree - but we cannot move the King in this state, and if we send for the General Hephaestion it will take days for him to get here,  Critodemus reflected.We must hope for the best. I will go and brew some more calming concoction now. My patient will need it before this night is over.

The doctor left, and the faithful guards remained at Alexander's bedside. The night lamp flickered, and Stefanos saw the dark skinned woman patiently waiting in the shadows.

The faithful guard made a sign against Evil, shooing at her once more.

Away with you, Evil One. We will not let you claim our King. The General Hephaestion will not let you have him!

The dark skinned Goddess disappeared in a black mist. Stefanos felt a cold hand clutch at his heart.

/ If only the General Hephaestion were here. He is the only one who can ward off this Evil and save King Alexander! /

**TBC**


	4. Discord and Anguished Waiting

Hello Coral and all,

All in the Confluence Camp are anxiously waiting for news from King Alexander's Mallian Campaign. When the Royal Messenger at long last arrives, he brings grave tidings. Discord soon spreads, and Hephaestion and his friends are having a hard time keeping all in check.

At the city of Multan the Death Goddess Kali is eagerly waiting to claim Alexander. Doctor Critodemus and the King's faithful guards and servants do their very best to keep him alive but they all know the truth.

There is only One who can save King Alexander and call him back to Life...

All the best wishes, Read and enjoy,

/ NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Mallian Arrow. ( 4 / 5 )  
Author: NorthernLight  
Email address:  
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure story. AR  
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion  
Date: July 2008  
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, on and off list  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only. This is for my great and long term interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their times and and great adventures.  
Beta: Denise. Many thanks for interesting suggestions and discussions. You sure make my stories a far better read.  
Summary: Due to reckless actions, Alexander receives a serious arrow wound at the Mallian's city. I have taken the liberty to use the AR concept to explain his ruthless war against the Mallians.  
Warnings: Angst. War and violence. Serious injury to major characters. Ferocious but upright panthers.  
Botanical note: My thanks to D V Cowen and his excellent book on Flowering Trees & Shrubs in India.

Dedication: To Coral, in answer to your Mallian Arrow fic challenge. I'm a very slow writer, but this story have been in my head for a very long time. My apologies for not finishing it earlier.

**Mallian Arrow, Part Four**

****

The Confluence Camp at the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis, 326 BC

**Conference Of Conspirators  
**

General Craterus resided in his tent with General Cassander and Secretary Eumenes gathered around his desk. They were sharing a jug of well watered wine as they whispered together. Their usual complaints had taken on more malignant implications these days.

That man! Why did King Alexander give him Command over us?,  Craterus asked with the greatest envy. I ought to have been chosen. I am his best General and strongest warrior, he modestly stated.

He is not worthy of it. Some days ago he was not't able to stand or walk properly! Now he is bedridden. He has not been out of his tent for three whole days., Eumenes said, his voice dripping with sheer malice.

I have heard that he is delirious. None of doctor Philips remedies have given him his senses back. He just lies there in his bed, lost in his own world, sometimes screaming out loud for Alexander, Cassander told his cronies in a rancid grumbling.

If he is not improved in some days' time, I must relieve him of his Command, Craterus answered in a sharp whisper.I am the better Military Man - but I have always been surpassed by him, due to his uncanny attractions to the King.

We will give you our unrelenting support, good Craterus,  Cassander and Eumenes whispered in unison, before sneaking out in Camp to spread further discord and dissension.

General Craterus remained in his tent, feeling more concerned and beleaguered than his cronies.

/ For Alexander's sake I hope that it is only fever delusions Hephaestion suffers from,  he worriedly mused to himself. The General Hephaestion has been this way once before, at the Danube. Then he was also delirious, and exactly lived through the King's sufferings in an agonized unconsciousness. Cleitus told me, he was there guarding Hephaestion before he woke up and set out for that successful rescue mission. I fear greatly for Alexander. Things cannot be right. There has been no news at all for well over a week now. /

The giant General was in a somber mood. Alexander was his King and his dear friend. He knew that there was a very close bond between him and Hephaestion. What one of them suffered, affected the other one equally.

Something terrible must have happened to King Alexander.

**Grave Tidings  
**

The Royal Messenger arrived at dawn with a swift river boat, ferociously rowed by twelve eager oarsmen. He leaped from the boat and ran to the midst of Camp. All gathered around him, greatly dismayed by his somber appearance.

Behold, all loyal Macedonians, he called out, his voice loud and carrying, I have grave tidings to you all. King Alexander has been shot with an arrow. He is seriously wounded and he is not expected to live for long. He might have breathed his last even now. Macedon is in grave danger.

A great wailing and lamentation broke out all over Camp. All were overwhelmed by feelings of fear, grief, terror and outrage.

The welfare of King Alexander was the welfare of all!

With him gone, the Macedonians had small hopes of a safe return to their distant Home.

The wailing and lamentation found their way straight into the Royal tent, where Hephaestion rested in a feverish slumber, closely guarded by doctor Philip, Cleitus, Ptolemy and his young pages. The Messenger's grave tidings woke him up from his languid stupor. He sat up in bed with eyes wide from shock and grief.

Alexander! I must go to him! At once!

Then he clutched at his chest, as his breath suddenly labored . He almost choked on tears of the most excruciating pain and sorrow. All the same he tried to get up from bed, trembling from weakness and deep emotions.

Alexander! You cannot be gone. I would have felt it - here!

He pressed his hands hard over his heart. Cleitus and Philip tried to offer what meager comfort they could muster as they forcibly held him back. .

Rest easy, Hephaestion. Don't talk so much, the good doctor told him. Alexander is strong, he has been shot with an arrow several times before and always survived. He surely will this time, too.

Yes, I hope so. We all MUST hope so.

Hephaestion had to lay down on his side as his whole world turned black from the overwhelming emotions.

/ What will I do? Whatever will I do? There is no way that I can go on in a world without Alexander!  /

His tame black panthers Nychta and Mavra came to him and licked his hands, futilely trying to comfort their Dear Master. He smiled at them, through a curtain of tears.

You are so very brave and kind, my dear cats, but this time you cannot comfort me. Only Alexander can. 

He found the strength to gently pat and rub the silky black fur on their heads and ears, making them purr with satisfaction. They settled down at the side of his bed, carefully guarding their Dear Master. Hephaestion succumbed totally to his grief. He closed his eyes and moaned and wailed silently to himself. Doctor Philip came with a bowl filled with a strong calming concoction.

Drink this, my friend. It will help to calm you down and put you to sleep, he gently tried to persuade his important patient. It is not good for you to be in so much pain and grief.

No. Thanks, but I don't want it, Philip. There are no potions on this earth strong enough to soothe the grief and sorrow I feel for Alexander!

Hephaestion shook his head and once more closed his eyes. His young pages Hieron and Pataikos bathed his fevered brow with cool water, but he was so deeply upset that he did not notice their kind efforts. Doctor Philip stood at his patient's bedside and shook his head.

We must hope that there will come better tidings from Alexander soon, he whispered to Cleitus and Ptolemy, or else we might very well lose them both.

**Discord!**

Now the turmoil in Camp worsened. Hephaestion's strong and dedicated guards Matthias and Euphemios came running inside the Royal tent.

Generals Cleitus and Ptolemy. You must come at once! Craterus and Cassander has come to blows regarding who shall govern Macedon now when Alexander...

Matthias saw Hephaestion in his state of utter bereavement and instantly became silent. Ptolemy rose from the beautiful General's bedside.

I will go and settle it, he adamantly stated. You all must stay and guard HIM with your very lives!

He rushed outside, not noticing that Hephaestion opened his eyes and managed to sit up in bed.

Help me up and get me dressed! Time is of the essence! Alexander gave me the High Command and now I must claim it! The safety of us all depends on it! 

Hephaestion was weakened by grief and sorrow, but he was always dutiful and filled with common sense. Macedon was in grave danger. If the worst had occurred to Alexander, the Army must make a swift and secure retreat from this hostile realm, and Hephaestion knew that he was the only one who was qualified to make it possible. He could read and speak Persian fluently, and he had all the necessary diplomatic and logistic connections. The men would follow him as they always had followed Alexander.

Alexander. A great sight escaped from him. He managed to steady himself as Hieron and Pataikos quickly washed him and combed out his hair before dressing him in a deep blue, gold rimmed chiton and clasping a deep blue cloak around his shoulders with a golden fibula in the shape of the sixteen rayed Star of Macedon.

Hephaestion took a deep breath as he slowly rose from his bed. Cleitus and Philip gave him his crutch and offered discreet but strong support as he hobbled outside to face a hostile world filled with dissent and detractors.

**Tumultuous Tactics**

In the middle of the Macedonian Camp a most embarrassing and tumultuous scene was taking place before all the soldiers, camp followers and dignitaries. The Generals Craterus and Cassander were facing each other like two angered gamecocks, shouting and yelling at the top of their lungs.

The High Command is mine! It must be MINE! I am the bravest and strongest General here! the giant General Craterus roared, violently stamping his foot so that the ground shook with his anger.

No. It is MINE! My Father is Regent in Macedon, so I must be Regent here now when Alexander might not survive! the General Cassander indignantly replied as he put his hands to his waist and set his elbows out, making himself look high, mighty and brimming with self importance.

Your Father Antipatros is a great man and a good General, Craterus answered. It is a pity that you are not like him. You are nothing but a spoiled brawling little brat!

Craterus and Cassander then begun poking and grappling at each other. Soon the two mighty Generals would be engaged in a common brawl, wrestling in the red dust on the ground . All Army looked at them with dismay and disbelief. Only the Secretary Eumenes tried to separate them, all in vain.

My gentlemen, you must restrain yourselves, he petulantly whined at them. This is no proper behaviour for brave Macedonian Generals!

The weasel like Secretary was sent aside with a forceful push from Craterus' elbow. He fell ignominiously to the ground, continuing his whining from there.

You MUST stop this, at once!

The General Ptolemy came running, and swiftly helped Eumenes to his feet.

Yes, Craterus and Cassander, you must stop at once! he adamantly stated. Macedon is in grave danger. We cannot afford this petty bickering amongst ourselves!

Craterus did not heed to this statement of common sense. Instead of listening, he dealt a mighty blow to Ptolemy's chin, felling him to the ground. Ptolemy blacked out for a short time. His head was spinning as he sat up in a heap of red dust.

/ Oh my, what a sorrowful mess. I wish that I were back in Egypt. There, things are calm and luxurious,  he silently mused to himself as he struggled to get up on his feet again./

Suddenly, a Voice filled with determination, calm and order carried all over the confused convention.

My gentlemen, calm yourselves, AT ONCE! King Alexander has been seriously wounded. Macedon is in grave danger. We must ALL abide further news and cooperate, or else we will never leave this place alive!

**Reluctant Unity**

It was Hephaestion, unexpectedly risen from his sick bed, and dressed all in blue, the color of calm and reason. The beautiful General sparkled with a new found vitality. His wonderful blue eyes were clear and filled with resolution and his glossy auburn hair shimmered like a firebrand. He looked as if there was nothing wrong with him at all, such was the calm and steadfast strength that radiated from his emaciated frame. The confused convention did not even notice the supportive crutch in his left armpit. General Cleitus and doctor Philip stood firmly put at his sides, and his two black panthers were flanking him. Nychta and Mavra bared their sharp teeth and fangs, ferociously hissing, their yellow eyes gleamed with fierce determination to protect their Dear Master against all Evil.

The soldiers looked up to the General Hephaestion and his fierce allies. Whispers and mumblings of assent started to spread though all the congregation, soon to be called out loud.

Hephaestion! Hephaestion! Hephaestion! He is the one with the most sense of all. He will take us alive from this horrible and hostile place!

All Camp gathered around the beautiful General, offering support and allegiance.

There were only three standing aside, the Generals Craterus and Cassander and the Secretary Eumenes. They whispered and grumbled in unison.

/ That man. Always that man! Why will he always have his way? /

**The Macedonian Camp at the City Of The Mallians, 326 BC**

****

Slow Recovery

After the removal of the bone splinter from his hideous wound Alexander made a very slow recovery. The rims of the wound were red and raw and showed very slow signs of healing and closing. His chest was swollen, his breath labored and he was constantly in agonizing pain. Critodemus' calming and soothing concoctions offered him some relief, but not nearly enough. He lay still and listless in his bed, he ate and drank very little and he did not regain any strength at all.

Alexander was often feverish and delirious. Then he called out for Hephaestion in sheer anguish and dismay. On these occasions, it was impossible to calm him down despite all their efforts. Critodemus stayed at the King's bedside all the time. The frightened doctor had a very hard time taking care of his Royal patient. Stefanos and Alexios did all they could, and they were constantly at Alexander's side, together with Bagoas.

/ King Alexander needs his friend so badly,  Stefanos whispered to Alexios. We must take him to Hephaestion - but I do not know how this can be achieved, not when he is in this weakened condition. /

The eight armed sinister dark woman still hoovered in a corner at the Royal Tent. She abided her time, brandishing her grim cleaver.

/ King Alexander will be mine, Kali hissed with determination. "Soon he will be mine - and I will NEVER let him leave my Dark Realm of Death and Sorrow.

Alexander shuddered and moaned in his feverish sleep. His breath labored and came at long intervals. Sometimes, it totally ceased, making his attendants even more worried.

Alexander's condition remained serious and he was mending very slowly. It took him well over a week to regain some feeble strength and faint colour. His breathing was still laboured, and he was able to sit up in bed only with great difficulty and supported by soft cushions. His appetite was scant, and only with the greatest difficulty was he able to take cooling fruit drinks, some well watered wine, beef broth and small slices of bread fresh from the oven.

His faithful dogs Phobos and Deimos sat at his bedside, merrily wagging their tails as he fed them some bread crumbs. Sometimes, they set off, chasing a Shadow in the corner, but they always returned to their Dear Master. They were very worried by his pain and weakness. He, who always used to be up and about and always up to new ventures, they were simply not used to seeing him just lying there recumbent, still and listless.

Phobos and Deimos, as all the others in Camp, wished for King Alexander to soon be well again.

**Stern Reproach**

When Alexander was able to sit up in bed his friends and Generals came to give him a stern piece of their minds. Perdiccas, Peucestas , Leonnatus and Lysimachos gathered around his bed together with the other Companions present in Camp. Alexander was lying back, resting his aching frame against soft cushions. He was feeling very weak and tired. His eyes were half closed, but he listened intently.

Alexander! Why did you do this foolhardy thing?, Perdiccas scolded.I could not help that there were not enough ladders. I had sent for more - but you just had to rush on taking this dreadful risk!

We could very well have lost you, have lost it all, Peucestas roared at him. We are nothing without you! We will never make it back alive from this hostile and horrid land if you are not here to lead and govern us!

Your Father, King Philip, was a brave warrior but he would never have taken such a risk! Lysimachos stated. A King is above all. He is more important than an ordinary soldier or warrior. - and YOU are the greatest King Macedon has ever had. We cannot afford to lose you!

Alexander! We have had some very bad news from the Confluence Camp, Leonnatus informed. Many there think that you are dead. Hephaestion and Ptolemy tell of brawls, strife and discord. They are not sure that they will be able to hold it in check much longer.

Now the King opened his eyes and weakly lifted his hands, as a small fragment of his former vitality returned to him.

Does Hephaestion think that I am dead, too? he asked with great dismay. His voice was weak and trembling, barely audible.

No, of course not, Alexander,  Perdiccas reassuringly answered. But it would sure help if you were to send him and all of them a letter, telling them that you are mending and that they are to await your return in calm and order

He produced a scroll, already written.

Here it is. You just have to sign it and put the Seal to it.

**Unexpected Decision**

Alexander took the scroll with trembling hands, and then called for ink and stylus.

Yes, Perdiccas. Many thanks for your efforts. I will sign this, but not before making an important addition of my own, he determinedly told them, his voice now strong and carrying. I will be with them in person in three days' time. Make my Royal Flag Ship ready! We will depart as soon as possible. 

All Companions spoke against his plans, the doctor Critodemus most adamant of them all.

Sire, you cannot travel, not by boat, nor by litter or wagon, he said with great worry. You will reopen your wound. You might very well die from the exertions!

Alexander did not listen to them. He craftily wrote down his intentions, and then he signed and put the Seal to the scroll.

I sure will die if I remain here! I must return to Camp. I MUST be with Hephaestion again!

His beautiful gray eyes were blazing from determination and his golden hair glowed with renewed gloss and vitality as he sat up in bed roaring at them. Phobos and Deimos sided with him. The giant, wolf like hounds growled menacingly at Critodemus and the Companions. They all humbly bowed to him.

Yes, King Alexander. All will be as You have ordered.

**The Confluence Camp at the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis, 326 BC**

****

Waiting In Agony

Hephaestion hobbled around all Camp, supported by General Cleitus on his right side and his crutch on his left side. Nychta and Mavra slowly padded at his sides, carefully keeping watch. They knew that their Dear Master had several Evil Enemies, and they would not mind taking a bite and scratch at them. His faithful guards, Matthias and Euphemios and the young pages Hieron and Pataikos, followed closely after him, always ready to protect and help him in his all consuming duties.

Hephaestion was limping very badly and he was in constant pain from his leg wound, but he did not let it restrain him from doing his usual work. He went to all, listened to all and he had words of hope and comfort for them all.

After his usual rounds, he returned to the Royal tent. Cleitus gave him a worried glance. His important ward looked worn out and in even greater pain and agony these days.

Cleitus knew that something far worse than his leg wound bothered Hephaestion, the very same thing that bothered them all.

How was King Alexander now? Was he still alive, or would they soon receive grave tidings from the Mallian campaign?

As soon as he was inside the Royal tent Hephaestion dropped the crutch and clutched at his thigh with both hands. He slowly sank to the floor with an agonized groan.

Oh no. Now you are burning up from fever again, Cleitus stated as he crouched at his friend's side and felt his brow. He quickly picked him up and carried him to his bed, calling for doctor Philip to instantly be brought to his patient.

The good doctor swiftly arrived, offering stern reproach to the patient.

Hephaestion! I told you to stay in bed, or sit calmly at your desk, he roared in a perturbed manner.That leg of yours will NEVER heal if you do not abide by my ordinations!

Yes, I know, Hephaestion answered, but there is so much to do. Always so much to do...

Stubborn as always. I have never seen such a stubborn patient in my whole career!

Doctor Philip immediately tore off the dressings and worriedly inspected the wound. It looked the same as before, but now its rims were more raw and swollen, and there were some ominous red lines spreading towards the patient's groin. The good doctor was in great fear of gangrene and blood poisoning assaulting his dear patient. He did not dare tell Hephaestion and his attendants, but he saw that they realized the risk all the same.

This wound does not look good at all, Hephaestion, he sternly stated. I will reopen it once more and rinse it thoroughly with wine and boiling water. Then, I will put on an even stronger healing poultice and new dressings. You will remain calm and still in your bed or in your comfortable resting chair. You may NOT put any strain or stress on this leg whatsoever from now on!

Hephaestion nodded and reluctantly subjected to the painful procedures. Cleitus faithfully sat at his side, holding on to him as the pain became unbearable. Nychta and Mavra knew that the good doctor only meant well for their Dear Master. Still, Hephaestion had to tell them to keep calm during the necessary operation.

When doctor Philip had finished his patient was in even greater pain and discomfort. He swiftly administered a bowl of calming concoction, a strong dose of poppy seeds and valerian. As Hephaestion drifted off into a merciful unconsciousness, he gently stroke his fevered brow and sat down at his bedside.

I am so very worried for him, he whispered. He is missing Alexander so much, that's why this hideous wound does not want to heal properly. Nothing but the King's safe return will heal him now.

Cleitus and all nodded in consent. Nychta and Mavra curled up at the bedside. They were purring with satisfaction, now when he was sleeping calmly and without pain. The giant black panthers vigilantly watched over him with their yellow eyes glowing under half closed velvet black lids.

No one would be allowed to disturb their Dear Master in his weakened condition!

Hephaestion had a serious relapse after the operation. He remained bedridden and running a very high fever. His wounded leg caused him much pain. He often called out for Alexander in anguish and dismay. When he could not see his Golden One at his side, he started crying inconsolably. No herbal remedies could relieve his angst and pain and no cold rub downs could take his temperature down. Doctor Philip sat at his patient's bedside, his brow wrinkled with worries.

I cannot understand this strange illness, he worriedly stated to Cleitus and Ptolemy who kept him company. The wound is clean now with no signs of infection whatsoever. Still he is in this troubled state. Now I do not know what to do to help him!

**Hungry Panthers**

Loud and heavy steps from a pair of metal studded military boots suddenly interrupted their worried conversation.

Craterus!

The giant General looked as if he meant trouble. He stood with his legs wide apart, looking down at Hephaestion who was thrashing to and fro in a fevered delusion.

How is he today? No improvement at all, as I see it, Craterus stated with sheer malice. He cannot hold up the High Command any longer, not in this condition. Now, it is time for ME to take charge here!

Nychta and Mavra looked up, their yellow eyes glowing with hatred and their silken black ears pointed forward from anger and outrage. They growled and crept slowly towards the giant General, looking like cats sneaking up on some hapless prey.

Behave yourself, Craterus, Cleitus sternly told him. Nychta and Mavra have not been in a very good mood of late.

Oh, they are perfectly tame, no more dangerous than the kittens he used to have as a boy, Craterus mockingly answered. They will not attack anyone, and certainly not ME! 

Then things happened very quickly. Two black shadows flew at the giant General, pinning him to the floor. Nychta started to claw and nibble at his right arm, and Mavra stared him straight into his eyes, her fangs bared and ready to devour him. Craterus looked into her feral yellow eyes and started to tremble. He heard an angry, hissing Voice deep inside his head.

/ Don't you ever dare to harm our Dear Master or usurp his Command. We have longed for this ever since we realized your Bad Ways, but HE has always called us back. Now, it seems, he cannot. And we are sooo hungry today, Nychta and I ! /

Mavra sank her fangs into Craterus' earlobe and started to softly nibble at it. The giant General groaned and screamed from pain.

No, please, NOOOOO, he begged and pleaded. Don't eat me up! Leave me alone, you big monsters!

Cleitus, Ptolemy and doctor Philip did not know what to do. Cleitus tried to grab the spiked collars of the ferocious panthers and drag them away from their hapless prey, but they were no ordinary watch dogs. He was quite unable to get them off Craterus.

Oh no, they sure will eat him up before our very eyes. They are very hungry, too, they have not eaten anything at all since Hephaestion got worse!

Nychta! Mavra! Stop this at once! You may NOT eat him! He is so very bad, he might give you a case of indigestion!

A determined Voice called out. Hephaestion was sitting up in bed. The confusion had awoken him from his feverish delusions, and he was able to call off the violent assault in the nick of time. Nychta and Mavra very slowly released their prey, with ferocious snarls and hissings. Reluctantly, they withdrew and returned to their Dear Master.

Craterus. I heard it all, Hephaestion sternly told the manhandled detractor. I am in charge here, no one else. Alexander gave me the High Command, and I will hold it until he returns. 

He slowly rose from the bed, putting his feet on the ground.

It seems that it is high time to get up from this bed now. And, Craterus, even if I am at my very weakest right now, you can see that I have some very strong allies and good friends here in Camp. 

He fondly and rewardingly rubbed Nychta and Mavra over their furry silken black heads and ears. The giant panthers looked up to him in adoration, as they started to purr with satisfaction.

Their Dear Master was himself once more!

The General Craterus was crestfallen and much embarrassed as he withdrew from the Royal tent, suddenly in need of a clean chiton and a fresh loincloth.

**A Letter From Alexander**

Hephaestion made a slow recovery from the painful operation. Doctor Philip wanted him to remain in bed, but he was too engaged in all his duties to heed the well intended prescriptions. Now, he was sitting at his desk as usual with his bad leg propped up on soft cushions on a footstool. He frowned at it. The wound was still raw, swollen and throbbing. It healed very slowly and he was in constant pain and fever. No concoctions were able to relieve his suffering and doctor Philip and all were worried over his condition.

/ I sure wish Alexander was here with me, he silently mused to himself. His Healing Hands will sure make me feel better. /

Then the present disaster came before him once more.

Alexander was seriously wounded, maybe dying. He might already be dead!

Hephaestion leaned forward, resting his aching head in his hands. His brow was so hot from surgical fever that his hands felt like they were burning. Now, hot tears flowed all over them, and he shivered with inconsolable grief. Two soft muzzles gently butted at his good knee. Nychta and Mavra were at his side, sorrowfully meowing as the giant cats they were.

Good cats, good cats. I am so glad to have you here, he said as he gently rubbed their silken black heads and necks. You sure will help me hold my enemies at bay!

He once more slumped into his grieving position. Now he felt strong hands resting at his shoulders. Cleitus, Matthias and Euphemios were behind him, closely guarding him against all Evil.

Small feet came running in a cadence filled with Hope and Joy.

General Hephaestion! General Hephaestion! There has come a dispatch from King Alexander - for your eyes only! He is alive, and he will be coming here with boat on the river, in three days time!

Hieron and Pataikos proudly presented a scroll bearing the Royal Seal of Macedon. Hephaestion eagerly grasped for it and broke the Seal.

The beginning of the scroll was written in Perdiccas' bold and reckless hand. Then, Hephaestion saw the last lines, weak and trembling, but he clearly recognized Alexander's impatient, fervent and forward lettering.

/ Hephaestion, my Dearest of Friends. You would have heard dire tidings about me and my failing health. You may even have heard that I am already dead and gone. Do not believe this. As you hold this scroll in your dear hands, my Flag Ship is already on the River, bringing me closer to you all the time. In three days time we will be reunited, and then all will be well.

Alexander /

Hephaestion read the scroll once, and then once more before he could actually believe it. When he at long last realized that the good news were for real, he cried once more, this time from happiness and sheer relief.

**At The Royal Flag Ship On The Hydraotis River**

Pain and suffering.

Alexander's whole world was filled with it. Every breath was filled with red hot agony. Every stroke of the oars drew him closer to Hephaestion, but every one of them caused him sheer agony. His whole chest was aflame and his breath was constricted from the searing pain. Sometimes he could not get any life giving air at all. He had been sick all the time on the Royal Flag Ship and now he was very weak, too weak to look up and see and hear anything at all.

Suddenly there was a great wail and roaring from many voices filled with sorrow and outrage.

The King is dead! The King is DEAD! It is nothing but his corpse lying there.

Alexander desperately struggled to open his eyes and lift his right hand.

**At the Shore, The Confluence Camp at the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis, 326 BC**

Early in the morning of the third day, Hephaestion heard that the Royal Flag Ship was coming down the river in a swift pace. He rose from his desk, but found that he was quite unable to stand. He was feverish and dizzy and feeling very weak. Not even his good leg could support him. His wounded leg gave way under him totally and he sat down again with an agonized groan. Reluctantly, he called for a litter. Matthias and Euphemios swiftly carried him down to the shore and put the litter down. He was shivering from fever, pain and deep emotions. The day was warm as usual in this hot Indian climate, but his faithful attendants had to wrap him into a warm, brown rug like blanket to protect him from the bad chills that constantly shook him.

Now, the Royal Flag Ship became visible at the River. It came nearer and nearer. The oarsmen were rowing at their very fastest, all until they could anchor at the shore. All Camp were standing at the shore in silent expectation.

King Alexander was resting on a litter in the midst of the deck, clearly visible to all. An awning made from gold rimmed purple silk gave him shelter from the merciless glaring sun, and he was covered by purple, golden rimmed blankets.

The King was lying utterly still on his litter. He was pale and wan, almost translucent, and his beautiful golden hair had lost its shining radiance. It seemed like it was nothing but his lifeless corpse resting in all that gold rimmed purple. A great wail and roaring from sorrow and dismay instantly broke out from all the Generals, Companions and soldiers.

The King is dead! The King is DEAD! It is nothing but his corpse lying there.

Only Hephaestion remained silent. His grief was too strong to allow his voice to express it. His eyes filled with tears, his vision was blurred and he felt like passing out and sinking into merciful oblivion.

He forced himself to look up once more and wiped the tears from his eyes with a trembling hand.

A sight of Joy and Hope met him.

Alexander had opened his eyes and lifted his right hand in salutation to his True Steadfast Friend and his faithful troops. Now they all cheered with Joy and Hope.

The King is ALIVE! All hail King Alexander!

Hephaestion looked straight into Alexander's beautiful gray eyes. They were surrounded by thousands, but this Happy Moment was theirs alone.

His Beautiful Golden One was back at his side.

**TBC**


	5. Healing Together

Hello Coral and all,

Here comes the conclusion. Hephaestion is anxiously waiting in the Confluence Camp. Does he dare to believe that Alexander actually has survived his ghastly wound and is on his way back ?

All the best wishes, Read and enjoy,

/ NorthernLight

**TEMPLATE: **

Title: FIC: Mallian Arrow. ( 5 / 5 ) Conclusion  
Author: NorthernLight  
Email address:  
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure story. AR  
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion  
Date: July 2008  
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, on and off list  
Archive: Yes, but please tell me.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only. This is for my great and long term interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their times and and great adventures.  
Beta: Denise. Many thanks for interesting suggestions and discussions. You sure make my stories a far better read.  
Summary: Due to reckless actions, Alexander receives a serious arrow wound at the Mallian's city. I have taken the liberty to use the AR concept to explain his ruthless war against the Mallians.  
Warnings: Angst. War and violence. Serious injury to major characters.  
Botanical note: My thanks to D V Cowen and his excellent book on Flowering Trees & Shrubs in India.

Dedication: To Coral, in answer to your Mallian Arrow fic challenge. I'm a very slow writer, but this story have been in my head for a very long time. My apologies for not finishing it earlier.

**Mallian Arrow, Part Five, Conclusion**

****

The Confluence Camp at the Rivers Acesines and Hydraotis, 326 BC

Return Of The King

The King is dead! The King is DEAD! It is nothing but his corpse lying there.

All who were gathered on the shore saw King Alexander on the litter, a mere shadow of his former glorious and warlike appearance. They all thought that he was dead and gone, the Royal Flagship only carrying his fallen corpse back to them. A great wail rose from their throats, and all in Camp were screaming and crying, as bereaved children suffering from an inconsolable grief. It was an unbelievable sight, all these battle hardened men so stricken from grief and sorrow that tears were running freely from their eyes down their scarred and weary faces.

Then suddenly, King Alexander opened his eyes and lifted his right hand to greet them.

Grief quickly turned into the greatest joy. Thousands of voices called out in relief and joy.

The King is ALIVE! All hail King Alexander!

They saw the King rise from his litter. His faithful guards Stefanos and Alexios supported him with kind concern, but he waved to avert them. Soon he walked, staggering but unassisted over the ship's deck, eagerly aiming for the gangplank. The guards followed him closely, together with Perdiccas, Peucestas, Leonnatos and Lysimachus. They looked worried, but King Alexander smiled at them as he confidently went ashore. He then beckoned to Bucephalus. The big, black stallion was led over the gangplank. He did not like traveling by boat, and his legs were wobbly and insecure. When he saw the shore before him he was visibly gaining strength, and when his friend Castor greeted him with a merry neighing he was feeling even better. He was in his finest attire and he knew that his dear Master needed him. With great reverence he sank down on his haunches, waiting for Alexander to mount.

It took some time. The cheering soldiers and Companions gathered around King Alexander. He was showered with well wishes, concerned questions and merry cheers. Many picked up the local fragrant and many coloured flowers and threw at him and his fabled war horse. They fell in such abundance that man and horse soon were covered in a virtual mountain of sweet smelling flowers. Bucephalus impatiently shrugged them off and beckoned to his Master to mount him.

No, not yet, my dear friend, Alexander gently told his faithful equine friend. There is someone important that I must greet before we go for a ride.

**Fond Reunion  
**

Hephaestion tried to rise from his litter, but he found himself quite unable to do so. His deep emotions made him tremble and waver to and fro. Cleitus and Ptolemy saw his apparent distress and gave him a hand up as he appeared from the brown rug like blanket. Then, they supported him as Alexander came near. He stood there trembling, eagerly wanting to run to meet his Dear One, but his legs were shaking so badly that he simply did not dare.

His Golden One was more beautiful than ever. Alexander was a bit pale and wan, and he had lost so much weight. Still he was radiant, and surrounded by his very own golden glow of strength and power. He let go of the support he had from Stefanos and Alexios, and his Companions and went forward to embrace his True Steadfast Friend. He was still very weak, and his deep emotions almost made his legs give way under him. Hephaestion swiftly noticed this and took a step towards him. They fell into each others' arms, joining in a warm embrace, like two wanderers in a merciless desert at long last finding water and life supporting sustenance.

All who were watching could clearly see a Golden glow radiate from the King and his friend. It spread its healing warmth and strength around, for all to see and feel. They all spoke prayers of thanks and reverence to Zeus and all the Olympic Gods.

Alexander felt Hephaestion's strong arms around him. His head rested on his right shoulder, fanning him with his glossy auburn hair. Now Hephaestion was crying openly and the hot tears were flowing all over his chest and ribcage, finding their way to the ghastly wound in his side. Instantly, Alexander's breathing came with greater ease and the constant pain in his right side and ribcage was soothed, as if he had been anointed with a wonderful healing balm. He was complete again, once more himself.

He needed his True Steadfast Friend at his side. Now all was going to be well!

Hephaestion rejoiced in the warm embrace of his Beautiful Golden One. Even in this weakened state Alexander had the ability to share his fabulous strength and warmth. Hephaestion felt better than in many days, and the excruciating pain in his thigh and ribcage was transferred into a dull, but bearable ache. With surprise he found that his right leg now supported him without any weakness or trembling.

Alexander gently caressed his cheek, clearing the tears away.

No, my Dear One. You don't have to cry anymore. All is well now when I have you at my side. 

I am not crying from grief, Alexander. Don't you see that it is tears of joy!

This adamant statement set off another torrent of hot tears and he had to lean on Alexander once more, resting his head on his breast. Alexander embraced him and supported him. He suddenly had a strange feeling that the tears that were freely flowing all over his chest were offering him a miraculous Healing. He desperately clung to his friend, never wanting to let him go, and now he felt his own tears flow from his eyes, right into the glowing stream of glossy auburn hair before him.

Bucephalus gave an impatient neighing and beckoned to them. They needed some time to regain their composure and discretely dry all their tears away. Then Alexander went to his equine friend, gently supporting Hephaestion.

Yes, yes, Bucephalus. Now it is high time for a ride. Today, you must carry both of us. 

The giant black stallion nodded in consent, as Alexander mounted him and gently placed Hephaestion before him, careful not to upset his wounded leg. When they were securely seated he patiently rose, careful not to upset his Dear Ones. Bucephalus could clearly feel their weakness. He knew that they were not fit for riding a horse, but he also knew how important this was for them. He went towards the Royal tent in a slow walking pace. Castor followed, worriedly watching the wobbly couple on his friend's broad back. Nychta and Mavra came with him, and they greeted Phobos and Deimos with fond purrings. The wolf dogs and the black panthers usually did not like each other very much, but on this occasion they merrily ran together as a pack of merry kittens and puppies.

All the Companions and soldiers merrily ran around them, cheering and throwing flowers at them. It took forever and ever to reach the Royal tent, but they took their good time to talk to all who came up to them, giving them reassuring nods and answers to all their questions and well wishes.

At long last they came to the Royal tent. Bucephalus sank down on his haunches and they dismounted. Hephaestion was now trembling from weakness and Alexander had to lift him up on his feet. They stood together before all the Camp, decisively supporting each other. Alexander lifted his hand to silence all the cheering.

We have returned victorious. The Mallians and the Oxydracians have been utterly defeated. All India bows to Macedon, King Alexander proudly announced. Now we can return to Babylon in peace.

The cheering continued, accompanied by more flowers being thrown all over the King and his General.

All hail to King Alexander and the General Hephaestion!

Fortunately, no one noticed that both friends now staggered and wavered to and fro. They would not be able to remain on their feet much longer. Cleitus and Ptolemy, and all their faithful guards discretely supported them as they went into the Royal tent. As soon as they were away from all curious eyes Alexander went pale, suddenly feeling a cold sweat washing over him. He clutched at his side with a gasp of agony and fell unconscious to the floor. Hephaestion stiffly knelt at his side, worriedly patting his cheeks.

Alexander! How are you? You must come around, you cannot pass out on me now!

Beautiful gray eyes looked up at him and a weak and trembling hand gently caressed his cheek.

I am well, my dear One. It's just that I have not been on my feet for over a week now!

Hephaestion swiftly produced a jug from a fold of his sky blue cloak.

Here. This will make you feel better, my Dear One,  he said as he put it to Alexander's lips. It is your favorite Macedonian wine. I have saved this one for a very special occasion. 

Alexander nodded as he drank deeply from the jug. The strong red liquour coursed invigorating through his veins and chased the stabbing pain away from his right side. Soon, he was able to rise from the floor. Hephaestion remained on his knees, his bad leg now refused to support him. Alexander bent and tried to help him up, but then he gasped from the stabbing pain in his side.

No, my King! You must not lift anything or exert yourself, Critodemus called out as he came in a rush through the tent flap. It could be dangerous!

Hephaestion made another futile attempt to rise from the floor. He gasped and clutched at his thigh.

No, Hephaestion! You must not put any weight at all on that leg of yours!, Doctor Philip called out as he came running after Critdemus. It might start bleeding again, and I cannot let you take that risk!

He beckoned to Matthias and Euphemios. Hephaestion's faithful guards immediately helped their Master up from the floor. He was now very weak and trembling from sheer joy and relief, and he had to sit down on his bed immediately, rubbing his bad leg and gasping with pain. Alexander sat down at his side, gently holding him around his broad shoulders. Now, he put his other hand on his wounded thigh, straight over the seeping bandages. Hephaestion felt the wondrous warmth from the King's Healing hand. Soon the sharp throbbing pain went away and he could virtually feel how the constant swelling diminished. At the same time his breath came with more ease and his cracked ribs felt like healing, at long last.

Alexander was feeling complete at the side of his True Steadfast Friend. The pain in his side once more went away, and now he could breathe with more ease than for many a day. All of a sudden he was very tired. He needed to lay down immediately, to have some rest and relaxation. It was the same way with Hephaestion. The two friends were suddenly leaning towards each other, and then they slowly fell backwards. Their faithful guards were there to catch them, and they saw to it that they were put to bed together, resting comfortably and supported by soft pillows and cushions. Both doctors thoroughly inspected their wounds, expecting that their patients must have made them far worse by their reckless actions.

Instead, the ghastly wounds had started to heal, at long last. Critodemus could not recognize the angry red welt in the King's side. It had diminished into a harmless pink streak. The change in Hephaestion's nasty thigh wound was even more astonishing. It had dried up and started to close from the rims, and the angry red swelling was completely gone. There were no signs whatsoever of the former dangerous infection. Doctor Philip did not believe his eyes, neither did Critodemus. They both thanked Asclepius as they saw to their dear patients and put on new ointments, dressings and bandages.

Alexander and Hephaestion soon fell into a salutary sleep, resting comfortably and securely in each others arms. They were closely guarded by their Companions, faithful guards and skilled doctors. The wolf like dogs and giant black panthers rested at their bedside, vigilantly watching over their Dear Masters. Outside the tent Bucephalus and Castor stood, merrily neighing and nibbling together as they shared a generous helping of fine barley gruel and fragrant soft hay strewn over with flowers in many shapes and colors.

All the Camp was calm around the Royal tent. All the Companions and soldiers were careful not to disturb the King and the General Hephaestion. They knew how very seriously ill they had been when away from each other. All had seen the miraculous Change the Reunion had brought in them. Now, they were feeling great relief and at long last Hope for the future.

All was well. Soon, they were all going home together.

**Dark Goddess Defeated**

In a corner of the Royal tent Stefanos saw the strange, eight armed dark skinned woman appear for the last time. She became more and more translucent, soon to dissolve into a harmless black smoke. Nychta and Mavra chased her away, running after her and swapping at her with their clawed black paws.

Suddenly Stefanos heard an angry, hissing Voice, talking inside his head.

_/ This time your Dear Masters have managed to escape me. Only the tears of a very dear friend or lover can cure the wounds of my deathly arrows. I never ever thought that Sikandar could command that kind of Love and Friendship from anyone at all - but Hephaestion is his God Sent Gift. Sikandar is nothing without him. _

_The Voice made a long pause, so long that Stefanos hoped that it was gone for good. Then it returned, this time from afar. _

_Beware of the seven walled city of Ecbatana. There I will return and take the Dear One away from Sikandar! Beware of Ecbatana! /_

Stefanos shuddered as he felt an ice cold hand clutch at his heart. He hoped that the vicious Voice was just a figment of his sun stroked and exhausted imagination, but something told him that it was just as real as the world around him.

He was determined to be even more vigilant than usual if King Alexander and the General Hephaestion ever entered the city of Ecbatana again.

**Recovery And Retelling**

Alexander and Hephaestion made a swift recovery when they at long last were together again. They slept in each others arms almost continuously for three whole days. Then they slowly awakened. Sitting up in bed they took some well watered wine, bread, fruit and strengthening beef broth together. They talked about their experiences. Hephaestion told the King all that had happened in Camp during his absence. Alexander thought it all carefully over before he gave a thorough description of his hard won victory over the Mallians.

Oh, I so wish that I could have been there at your side, Hephaestion said. I would never have let you climb that wall and jump down all alone amongst the Enemy!

No, of course not, my Hephaestion. You would have been there right at my side!, Alexander fondly stated as he threw his arms around his friend. Here, have some more wine and food with me. We will need it before this day is over. You have informed me about serious matters that need to be attended to at once!

They sat together for a long time, making careful plans for the future. Afterwards they went to bed together. Their doctors came to see to their wounds, once more amazed at the swift healing and recovery of their important patients.

My King, your side and ribcage are almost healed now, Critodemus stated. The skin and ribs look fine, but I am not so sure about your right lung. Your breathing is still strained and there are some strange sounds I don't like when I listen to it. You are lucky to still be alive after this ordeal. I want you to rest and avoid all strenuous exertions for a long time ahead. 

Alexander nodded in assent. He did not want to worry the good doctor, but in his heart of hearts he silently mused all by himself:

_/  I will NEVER give in to any weakness or frailty of the body. This shortage of breath will soon pass. I have so much more to do, so much more to see. I must not appear weak to my Companions and my Army. /_

Doctor Philip carefully examined Hephaestion's ribcage and thigh wound.

You are healing remarkably well, my friend, he stated. I never thought that the infection would be gone this soon. Your leg looks just fine, and now your ribs have healed completely, too. You must take good care of yourself, though. Not many would have survived these serious injuries! 

It is thanks to the good care you and Alexander have given me, my good doctor, Hephaestion kindly answered, but - I would never have made it if Alexander had not returned to me alive...

He affectionately put his arm around Alexander, as if to hold on to him for ever. The embrace was instantly returned.

It was just the thought of you waiting for me that kept me alive after I had been shot with that dreadful arrow, Alexander fondly told his friend as he held him close at his side. I can survive all and any hardship and injury with you at my side!

The good doctors discretely withdrew from the King's bedchamber, carefully making Signs against ill omens.

**The King Calls To Account**

The day after King Alexander called for a Cabinet Meeting. All the Generals and Companions saw that it was to be most strict and formal. The King sat on his throne with a golden wreath on his head, dressed in his Royal red cloak. Hephaestion stood at his side, together with Cleitus, Ptolemy and their faithful guards. The dogs and panthers rested at the King's feet, growling ominously at all, especially at the Generals Craterus and Cassander.

King Alexander sternly addressed them all.

I have information that there has been serious discord here at Camp during my absence. You have been constantly fighting amongst yourselves since you were informed that I might not return alive. Some of you are far too ambitious, taking advantage of the situation instead of working together to keep up order and security. Two of my most important Generals have been fighting in front of all the Camp, like ordinary soldiers on a free night's binge. Others who tried to intervene were even injured! My Second in Command, the General Hephaestion, managed to restore order only with the greatest difficulty. We must all be thankful to him that he managed to restore calm and common sense in all this dreadful discord.

Alexander gave his True Steadfast Friend a look filled with admiration and reassurance. He did not mention the names of the culprits, but then he let his blazing gray eyes rest for a long time on Craterus and Cassander, making them tremble and blush. He once more addressed the High Command.

I will tolerate no more of this! We still have many enemies. They will rejoice and benefit from discord in our midst. We cannot let that happen!

King Alexander rose from his throne and made a determined gesture around the room.

From now on our High Command will act in unison. You, my closest friends, Generals and Companions will be as one. All discord, strife and in fighting will be strictly punished. You will answer to me personally if these orders are not obeyed!

They all bowed their heads, reassuring him that they would always be faithful to him and to each other.

Hephaestion sincerely hoped that this would come true - but he knew in his heart of hearts that next time something adverse happened to Alexander, it would be as bad - probably even worse...

**The King's Banquet**

Another three days went. Then King Alexander invited all his Companions to a Royal Banquet. There was to be feasting all over Camp, and all were invited. All Camp was cheering and gathered to a Celebration of the Happy Reunion of the King and the General Hephaestion. Oxen, ducks and chicken were roasted, vegetables were boiled and fruits were picked. The wine was flowing freely and the tables were laden in abundance. All were making merry, looking forward to a safe journey home.

In the Royal tent the Banquet was in full progress. The King's Hall was lit up with flaming sconces and filled with finely adorned, comfortable couches. The cushions were soft and made from fabrics in bright colours, scarlet, crimson, glowing orange and golden yellow. Some were azure blue as the sea, others were green like emeralds. The Indian evening was stifling hot outside. The air in the Royal tent was even more warming. Servants were constantly wafting great fans made from peacock and ostrich feathers, making the guests feel cool and comfortable. Here the food was even more abundant and succulent, and the wine flowed freely. There was excellent entertainment, singers and dancers and flute players, also musicians playing the strange local Indian instruments.

The King's Hall was brimming with happiness and good feelings. The wars were over at long last. All were going home to meet their families and enjoy the riches they had earned during their endless marching and fighting. Now was the time for rewards.

King Alexander and his closest and dearest Companion were reclining together on a comfortable, especially broad purple coach, set up as the Seat of Honour. Alexander was dressed in a Royal red golden lined chiton. He had a golden chain adorned with blood red rubies around his neck and a belt of pure gold studded with diamonds the size of small bird's eggs. Hephaestion wore a sky blue chiton with silver lining, a silver belt with the same diamonds as the King. Around his neck was his silver chain with sparkling amethysts. They looked their very best and healthiest. Their glossy golden and auburn hair shone in the light from the sconces, as they held on to each other in a fond embrace.

The King and his Dear One had made a remarkable recovery from their hideous wounds, but they were still weak and in great need of rest and recuperation. Their guards had discretely placed soft cushions to support them, and Hephaestion was resting his injured leg on a special, very long cushion. Nychta and Mavra sat at his side on the floor, together with Phobos and Deimos. The faithful animals had been served a luxurious dinner in finely ornate golden bowls. Fresh water was provided in other golden bowls. The giant wolf dogs greedily devoured their evening meal. The panthers were more reluctant. Hephaestion gently patted their furry silken black heads.

My dear friends, why are you not eating tonight?,  he worriedly asked them. You have been so very good all this time when I have been ailing and infirm. You need a reward. What do you want for dinner instead of these choice meats?

The giant panthers instantly leaped at the General Craterus, and Nychta even started nibbling at his left small toe. The giant General desperately wanted to kick out hard at her nose, but he did not dare. He just sat there stiff from fear and pain.

NO!, Hephaestion roared in an outrage. I have told you that you cannot eat the General Craterus. People are off limit ! ( Even the worst of them. he added so quietly that only Alexander could hear him. )

The giant panthers reluctantly but obediently returned to their dear Master. Now they enjoyed the choice meats in their golden bowls. Alexander gave them a curious glance.

Your sweet little cats have some strange appetites, my Hephaestion. I wonder what Craterus could have done to entice them so?

He said several impolite things at improper occasions. Nychta and Mavra got tired of his bad behaviour and wanted to give him a lesson of proper manners, Hephaestion answered with a sweet smile.  I called them back in the nick of time but it seems they still like the taste of him...

Alexander laughed and embraced Hephaestion. Then, he gave him a more serious look.

This enmity between you and Craterus will have to stop!,  he sternly stated. I need you both at my side, working together, not against each other.

He beckoned to the General Craterus.

Craterus. Come here and share our wine and choice meats. We need to talk. 

Reluctantly, the giant General came to the King and Hephaestion, sharing their couch, the fine red wine and the succulent choice meats. The three men had an earnest conversation.

Craterus. You are my dear friend and one of my best and strongest fighters and Generals. There is only One who holds a greater place in my heart. It fills me with deep concern that you have never acknowledged Hephaestion and his many outstanding qualities, the King sternly stated as he looked the giant General deep into his eyes. I have NOT given him his many important assignments because of my personal affection. It's strictly because of his unique qualities. Strength, good fighting skills, responsibility and sense for logistics, intelligence, thoughtfulness and diplomacy, all this is very seldom found in one man. That's the reason that I gave him the High Command when I rode out on the Mallian campaign. You, my Craterus, are a skilled General, a good tactician and a strong fighter. You have no reason whatsoever to be envious of Hephaestion. I have given you both the assignments that you are most skilled to perform.

Craterus blushed and looked down on his sandal clad feet as he listened to the King's stern reproach. At long last he managed to stand up for himself.

Alexander, it was not as bad as it sounds. All I did was for the best of Macedon, he said with defiance. Hephaestion was in a very bad way all the time when you were gone. He was even unconscious for days at a time. All I wanted was to help him out with the rigours of the High Command.

Nychta and Mavra growled angrily and scratched at his legs and feet.

Stop, my dear ones! You must NOT eat him!, Hephaestion sternly told his tame panthers, calling them back from their enticing meal. We know that he is not telling the truth. We will just have to put up with him as long as he is Alexander's friend.

He gently rubbed their furry black heads as they obediently returned to him. Then he addressed the giant General.

Craterus, I know that you are a stronger and more skilled swordsman and fighter than I will ever be, but your ambitions are far greater than your organizing skills,  Hephaestion stated with great difficulty. It was hard for him to see anything good with his worst adversary. You are completely loyal to Alexander and you will do anything to save and protect him. For that I will forgive you your intolerable slander of me and your flagrant attempts to relieve me of the High Command. But - I will take no more, mark my words. 

He raised his golden goblet to his adversary.

A toast to our friendship and loyalty to King Alexander. May we always do our very best to serve and protect him.

Hephaestion and Craterus drank together, pledging their loyalty to Alexander. The King looked with disbelief at the long time adversaries, silently musing to himself:

_/ At least something they can agree about. I am glad to have such a good friend and such a strong and stubborn General - but why can't they like each other as much as they like me? /_

All cheered when they saw King Alexander together with his dearest Friend and his most faithful General. They did not hear the stern reproach, nor the reluctant promises of friendship and unity.

After this conversation Alexander rose from the couch, rising his golden goblet to all. It was adorned with blood red rubies.

I pledge a toast to all of my faithful Companions and soldiers, he addressed them. We have marched a long way together. Even far away India is ours. Now, it is time to return home to Babylon and to Macedon. It will be a three part venture. I will take the major part of our Army down the coast, to Carmania. Craterus will take the luggage train, the wounded and the women through the mountain passes to Arachotia and Drangiana. Nearchus will take our fleet and sail along the coast, all the way to Carmania. We will join in Carmania, marching and sailing further on back to Babylon.

Alexander drank deeply from his golden goblet. The well watered red wine was not as strong as he had wanted, but his doctors had strictly forbidden him all kinds of excessive drinking.

All the party cheered, expecting an easy journey home.

All hail King Alexander and his many victories! Now he will lead us HOME!

Home! Home! HOME!

All cheered, merrily clanging and banging their cups together.

They did not realize that between them and far away Babylon and Macedon lay the scorching Hell of the Gedrosian Desert.

**The King's Bedchamber**

King Alexander rejoiced when he heard the cheering and carousing of his Companions. Suddenly, he felt exhausted and he started to cough. It caused a searing pain in his healing wound and made him clutch at his right side, gasping from this unexpected discomfort. He sat down on his couch, having great difficulties in breathing. Hephaestion and the Companions looked at him with great worry and concern. When he regained his composure he raised his hand and confidently and reassuringly addressed them once more.

Don't you worry for me, my dear friends. It's just my wound hurting more than usual. The General Hephaestion and I will make it an early evening, he calmly told them. We still need our rest. All who want can stay as long as you like. There will be food, wine and entertainment. Enjoy it all, you have well earned it!

He slowly rose from the couch. Hephaestion tried to assist him, but his injured leg was so numb from lying down on the coach all evening that it refused to support him. Their faithful guards immediately came and discreetly helped them on their feet. They had to stand for a very long time, wavering to and fro, before they were able to walk.

How strange, Alexander told his friend. I feel giddy, as if I had been drinking all night long - and I have had nothing but well watered red wine! 

You are still weak from your wound, my Love, Hephaestion prudently told him. You must take good care of yourself, for the sake of us all, and for my sake. I cannot do without you. 

They held on to each other, and with discreet support from their guards they reached the King's bedchamber. Hephaestion was limping very badly even with his crutch, and Alexander had to walk very slowly. The hot Indian air made it difficult to breathe , and it did not provide him with enough energy to stay on his feet. They were both thankful when they made it to their comfortable bed. The guards helped them to sit down and removed their festival attires, changing them to chitons made from thin and cool linen. Then they supported them with comfortable cushions and saw to it that they rested well.

Are you truly well, my Lords?, Stefanos asked with great concern. You look so very tired and worn out this evening.

Yes, it has been a long evening, and much to do these days after my return to camp,  Alexander answered, Of course we are tired, but you don't need to worry. We can take good care of each other. How are you yourself, my Stefanos? I know that you took an arrow in your shoulder when you were defending me. They say that you fought bravely with it remaining in you, and then you carried me to safety and held on to me all the time when Critodemus did the emergency surgery on me. You did not notice it and only passed out when you saw that I was secure and likely to survive!

Yes, my King. It was the very least I could do! Stefanos answered, rubbing his shoulder to feel how it actually was. It is healing well, I hardly feel a thing now!

You have always been a good and faithful guard, my Stefanos, acting as our Guardian Angel. I am most thankful for what you did for me at the city of Multan. There will be an extra reward waiting for you with your next pay, Alexander said with great appreciation.

Stefanos blushed and bowed in reverence.

No, my King. It is reward enough to march along with you on all your great campaigns, protecting you from all Evil!

All the guards now withdrew from the King's bedchamber. At long last Alexander and Hephaestion were on their own. The King filled a golden goblet adorned with glowing red rubies with well watered wine and pledged his steadfast friend.

Here is a toast to you, the best and dearest of all my friends and Companions, Alexander said as he looked deep into Hephaestion's eyes.

He drank deeply from the goblet before giving it to Hephaestion, who took a deep draught from it. Alexander's gaze was filled with love and admiration as he continued.

It was only the thought of you being at my side that kept me alive when I had been shot by that dreadful arrow. I had the strangest dream, about you coming to my help, fighting a dreadful Indian Goddess of death and destruction. 

Yes, I know, my love, Hephaestion replied. I passed out at my desk from a sharp and sudden pain in my right side, dreaming the very same dream. It must have been at the same time as you were fighting for your life at the walls of Multan.

Alexander embraced him.

We are so close, so very close. I can do without many things, I can endure many hardships, but I cannot manage without you!

They rested together for a very long time until Alexander felt his breathing come with more ease. Now, he was truly aware of his Steadfast Friend at his side. Hephaestion was more beautiful than ever, his body virtually shining from returning health and strength, and his auburn hair billowing around his broad shoulders looked finer than any festive cloak. Alexander was brimming with feelings of love and friendship, it was as if they were together for the very first time. He could actually feel the soft, cool breezes of Mieza in the Spring, the fragrant scent of primroses, daffodils and Spring violets, even as the hot, Indian air wafted through the room, bringing its exotic fragrances of foreign flowers.

Alexander embraced Hephaestion, covering him with fond and loving kisses. He gave him sweet and gentle caresses, staying his hand at his bad leg. The wound was now completely healed, but it had left a long and rugged scar from the hip halfway down the thigh.

Still as beautiful, still as wonderful as when we used to wrestle in Mieza, he murmured as he bent his head and lovingly kissed the scar. You will always be mine, whatever happens to us.

Hephaestion gently stroke Alexander's golden curls as he felt tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Then he removed Alexander's cool linen chiton and held his hand over the long and puckered dark red scar jigsawing on the right side of his ribcage, giving it a fond and warming caress. He shuddered as he realized that this hideous wound could have taken his beautiful Golden One away from him for good. He embraced Alexander and pulled him close by.

You are crying, my Dear One. Why? This is a moment of happiness, not of grief, Alexander said as he stroke the tears from Hephaestion's cheeks.

It's tears of joy, not of grief, my Love, Hephaestion answered. I am so happy to have you here at my side, to hear your voice and feel the gentle warmth from your loving hands. Craterus told me that you would not want me anymore, not when my leg has been disfigured in this dreadful manner.

Alexander formed his right hand as a fist, before he gently put it over Hephaestion's mouth.

Don't let him or your other detractors disturb our happy reunion, my Dear One, Alexander stated with great determination. YOU are my dearest friend. Whatever happens to you I will always want you at my side !

He now gave his friend a warm and loving embrace. Suddenly, he realized that he had regained much of his strength and vitality. It was the first time that he was in no pain or distress whatsoever. He was breathing with more ease than before, and the hot Indian air did not trouble him at all. Hephaestion was quite surprised as he felt the apparent arousal of his friend.

No, Alexander. We cannot do this, not so soon, he said with great caution. Both Doctors Philip and Critodemus told you to avoid all unduly exertions for a very long time to come. 

This is not unduly at all, my Dear One, Alexander reassuringly told him. It is quite necessary! It's such a long time since we were truly together!

Alexander now let his actions speak for him, taking Hephaestion in his arms before gently fondling and caressing him all over. He let his hand stay on the scar on his thigh, rubbing it as if trying to release the pain and tension around the newly healed wound. The reaction from this ministration was quite violent and unexpected. Hephaestion gasped out loud, from pain and pleasure simultaneously.

No, Alexander! You may not do this to me. It hurts too much. 

I will never do you any harm, my Dear One. Feel this now. It will make things better and easier for us.

Alexander grasped for a vial brimming with rose scented oil. He carefully anointed them both with it, until they were totally immersed in the wonderful fragrance. Hephaestion felt the warmth of his hands and relaxed to the healing touch.

Yes, now my leg is feeling much better. Oh, Alexander, this sure is not well advised, but you will always have your will with me.

Hephaestion now willingly succumbed to all the King's wishes. Their lovemaking was slow and careful. It did not have the heat and eagerness of their first time way back in Mieza. Still it was filled with the same urgent need and passion, the same heated feelings and the very same wonderful release.

Afterwards, they fell asleep in each others arms, completely exhausted but brimming with fond feelings. There were roses on their cheeks and they now looked so healthy that no one could think that they had been on the verge of Death's Dark realm just a few days ago.

The tent flap opened, bringing a cooling breeze filled with the fragrance of Indian flowers. Alexander put his arms closer around Hephaestion, as if to protect him from the cooling wind. Now Stefanos and Alexios came inside, covering the King and his friend with a fine red blanket made from cool linen. He brought the wolf dogs and panthers, and the vigilant animals quietly settled down at the King's bedside.

The faithful guards stood watching them for a long time, smiling in happiness as they realized that their Dear Lords were on their way to a complete recovery.

Alexander smiled in his sleep, fondly embracing Hephaestion and feeling completely calm and secure. All was well, as long as they were together nothing ill could happen to them.

**THE END**


End file.
